


Veronica Mars and the Justice League: Sneak Peeks & Outtakes

by cattyk8



Series: Veronica Mars & the Justice League [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Veronica Mars, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Veronica and Bruce are BFFs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8/pseuds/cattyk8
Summary: Various ficlets from all across the timeline of my Veronica Mars and the Justice League series.





	1. Flashlight (or, Logan's Not the Only Flyboy in V's Life)

**Author's Note:**

> The first several ficlets included here are from my contribution to [AdorkableAuthor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorkableAuthor/)'s Promptober 2018 challenge. You can read the full collection of 31 prompt fills [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154261) if you're interested in the non-JL stuff as well.
> 
> I would say that you probably need to at least have read the first part of my VM x JL crossover series, which is "[Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795003)" but during Promptober a lot of people who read these shorts had actually NOT read that and seemed to appreciate them all the same. So if you're not yet inclined to give that 109K monster a read, here's what you need to know: 
> 
> After the events of VM S3, Veronica takes on a missing persons case. The missing person? Billionaire Bruce Wayne. She follows his footsteps and eventually lands herself as a trainee/hostage of the League of Shadows alongside Bruce, and everyone at home thinks she's dead. 
> 
> They gain their freedom, return to Gotham, are reunited with friends/family, and start kicking butt in efforts to clean up Gotham. Veronica sometimes helps Batman out with the masked vigilante stuff from time to time, but her strength is as an investigator, and she becomes a top-notch investigative and security consultant. 
> 
> Here's what's not covered in the first fic: Eventually Veronica becomes an agent doing undercover and special ops work for the Justice League, then later, as they expand operations, acts as liaison between the JL and world agencies/governments. 
> 
> LoVe is the endgame, but it takes them years to get together. For many of those years, Logan, who joined the navy to become an aviator during the time Veronica was believed dead, knows she's still an investigator, but he has no idea who her associates are, except that playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne is one of her best pals.
> 
> Also, as a disclaimer—none of this stuff has been beta-read!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman introduces Veronica Mars to the Green Lantern. 
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 1 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place about four years after the end of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham,” around the time the Justice League is formed. Bruce Wayne is Batman, but he also maintains the cover story that he funds Batman, as an added layer of secrecy around his identity, which most of the Justice League do not know at this point.

Veronica Mars smirks as she looks the uniform-clad space cop up and down. “Batman wasn’t kidding when he said that ring of yours is like a flashlight.”

“I believe ‘glow stick’ was the term Spooky used when we first met,” the Green Lantern says, not a little grumpy at the reminder. “Who are you, anyway?”

Superman clears his throat. “Lantern, this is Veronica Mars. She’s an amazing investigator who’ll be helping us with some of our intel gathering.”

The Green Lantern narrows his eyes at the tiny blond. “Cop?”

“Private investigator.”

His lip curls in disdain. “You think spending a year or two taking pictures of cheating husbands qualifies you to work with the Justice League?”

Veronica just raises an eyebrow. “How old do you think I am?”

“I dunno. You don’t look legal and you’re like five foot nothing, but if you’re a licensed PI, I guess you have to be.”

She grins. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment, then. But just FYI, I’ve been licensed for seven years, but I helped my dad out before then. I’ve been investigating crimes since I was seventeen, solved my first murder before I turned eighteen. If you need caped references for my investigative skills, I can direct you to Big Blue over here, the Bat, and Iron Man. I’ve been working cases with them for years.”

“She really is great,” Superman says. “I first met her about four years ago, when she came back to the US after an investigation led to her being held hostage alongside Bruce Wayne, but I’d read about some of the murders she helped solve even before then. She’s helped me out a lot—both in my civvies and as Superman.”

“Thanks, Supey.” Veronica pats the large alien on the arm fondly before turning back to the Green Lantern. “In the interest of transparency, I’ll tell you that I’ve done some work as a cape, mostly in Gotham, working in conjunction with Batman, but it’s been decided that I’d be a greater asset to the Justice League in my civilian identity.”

“How come?”

“I’m actually better known and better connected as Veronica Mars, private investigator, than I am as a masked vigilante, and the League needs someone who can show ID when we need to reach out to government agencies and, heck, suppliers for the Watchtower. Also, I’ll be helping J’onn and Batman with some of the admin and personnel work.”

“Okay, I get that,” Green Lantern says. “And I’m also getting that meeting you is pretty much a formality.”

Superman rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, we weren’t going to mention it unless anyone really objected, but, yeah. I’ve worked with her longer than any of you guys, even longer than I’ve worked with Batman. And the level of Batman’s involvement with the Justice League is contingent on hers.”

“Would’ve been nice to know that before I signed up to this dog and pony show, seeing as Batman’s the guy who gave us the Watchtower to begin with.”

Veronica frowns. “Actually, that’s just because the Justice League and the Bat have the same sponsor. Even if Batman and I are not part of the League, you won’t lose your funding.”

The Green Lantern shrugs. “Well, I guess if everyone’s fine with it, then I am too. Wait—how come you know all of this about the Justice League?”

She shrugs. “It was an idea the Bat and Superman and I were spit balling before the whole alien invasion thing.” She pauses. “In the interest of transparency, I should tell you that I know the identity of every hero in the League, as well as most of the active capes nationwide.”

“Are you serious?!”

Veronica grins. “You’re not the only aviator in my life right now, Hal. Although my friend—”

Superman starts to cough unconvincingly. “Boyfriend,” he hacks out between coughs.

Veronica glares at the Man of Steel. “My friend is in the navy, and I know you used to be air force.”

“How do I know you’re not gonna tell anyone who I am? I have friends, coworkers—”

“Who could be in danger if people knew Hal Jordan was the Green Lantern for this sector? Yeah, where have I heard that before?”

“She’s known who I am for years and has kept my secret well enough.” Superman smiles. “It’s been pretty… liberating, actually. And she knows who Batman is under the cowl.”

“I didn’t even know you had a secret identity.”

Veronica smirks at them. “To be fair, Superman has a terrible disguise as a civilian. Seriously, it’s embarrassing.”

Superman smirks back. “Well, Green Arrow hasn’t seen through it, and neither have most of the people I’ve interacted with.”

“Batman did, the moment he saw your picture.”

“Well, he is the world’s greatest detective, isn’t he?”

“It could be argued that the title belongs to a Brit by the name of Sherlock Holmes. I’ve met him. He’s pretty impressive. He impressed the Bat, too.”

Superman looks thoughtful. “That’s saying a lot, actually. I’m pretty sure I’ve never managed to impress the Bat. At best, he’s called my work ‘adequate.’”

Veronica grins. “But that’s like getting gold stars and a pat on the head from other people! And you do blind him with the sunshiney goodness of your personality from time to time. I’m pretty sure he’s only impressed by my ability to attack villains with the power of sarcasm and not get killed.”

“It’s not just that they don’t kill you. It’s that they actually like you snarking at them.” The Last Son of Krypton shakes his head. “I mean, seriously. You told Lex Luthor to stop being such a ‘drama queen Daddy Warbucks’ and he still invites you to his parties and fawns over you. Even Darkseid wanted to keep you for a pet or something. It’s got to be some kind of super power.”

“Then aren’t you glad I only use my powers for good?” She beams. “Speaking of which, Lantern, I’m up to date on the powers of your ring, but what about the more practical stuff you bring to the table?”

“Huh?” The Green Lantern has been fascinated by the banter between the world’s strongest hero and the woman who may be the world’s tiniest detective, so he’s surprised when the conversation turns back to him.

Veronica gestures to the ring on his hand. “I know that’s more than a flashlight or a bauble. From what Batman and I can tell, it’s a power ring that harnesses willpower and can be used for energy projection, force field generation, and energy construct creation. It also enables your flight, augments your strength, and serves as a kind of scanner and translator, with access to some kind of galactic database.”

“That’s… uh… pretty comprehensive.”

“I aim to please. So apart from doing the Lantern thing and fly planes, what else can you do?”

“I’m an aeronautical engineer, so pretty much whatever you need that involves planes, I guess.”

“Cool. I’m scheduling everyone for training on piloting the new Javelin, but if it suits you, I think I’ll recommend you for training and maintenance duties beyond that. It’ll occasionally get you out of monitor duty, and trust me, that’s a good thing.”

“Hold on. Javelin? What’s that?”

“It’s the single-stage-to-orbit jet our sponsor has helped us negotiate a deal with. Makes the Batplane look like a single prop.”

The Green Lantern gapes at her. “SSTO? Are you freaking kidding me? That’s still theoretical for Earth technology.”

She smiles, sharp and bright. “Not anymore. We’ve got a deal with Wayne Enterprises and Stark Industries to test their new prototype, code named Javelin. It’s a win-win situation as most of the people who’ll be using it regularly aren’t as vulnerable should there be any malfunctions. Your flashlight-turned-force-field should come in handy.”

“Gee thanks, so glad my ability to not die in a plane crash qualifies me to play test pilot.”

“That would be more effective if you weren’t already a test pilot in your civilian identity. Also if Batman and I had not qualified for it three months ago.”

“You’re not shitting me? It’s seriously single-stage-to-orbit?”

“Yes, and it uses Stark’s ARC reactor technology, so it’s fuel-efficient.”

“Hot damn!” Pure lust tinges his voice.

She tilts her head. “I assume by that shit-eating grin on your face, that you’re a go for joining the first batch of trainees for it? Flash, the Martian Manhunter, and Aquaman weren’t too keen to go in the first batch, but Wonder Woman and Superman are a go. So, you got the balls for this, flyboy?”

“Oh, baby, it’s on like Donkey Kong.”

Veronica grins widely. “Lantern, I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“You know what, Veronica Mars? You might just be right about that.”


	2. Demonstration (or, Logan Is in for a Surprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lt. Logan Echolls is all gung ho to learn how to pilot the most advanced jet the US Armed Forces has ever commissioned. But day 1 of training brings a wholly unexpected revelation. 
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 3 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place about four or five years after the end of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” Veronica and Logan are exes-turned-friends, but basically the whole Justice League ships them, including Hal Jordan AKA the Green Lantern. 
> 
> On another note, I am very, very grateful to [Heavenli24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenli24/) for letting me consult on some navy life questions!

Lieutenant Logan Echolls, hotshot aviator for the US Navy, is excited. Heck, if he hasn’t had a little over five years of US armed forces discipline keeping his spine straight, his eyes forward, and his pace brisk and economical—snappy is the word—he would be incapable of walking straight for all the twirls and skip-hops he’d be doing.

He is one of only a handful of pilots from the navy and air force selected to join the first batch of trainees for the new S-816 planes commissioned by the United States Armed Forces from a joint project by Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated, and today is the first day of a twelve-week highly intensive training course.

The acquisition of the aircraft has been all the navy and air force flyboys have been talking about over the past few months, the gossip made all the juicier by the fact that most of the planes’ specs have been kept at the highest clearance level. Logan has only heard three things about the plane he will be learning to fly, but even those three are enough to leave him drooling.

The first thing he’s heard is that the plane is capable of true stealth mode, thanks to holographic technology developed from the same science behind Wonder Woman’s invisible jet. The second is that the plane isn’t just supersonic—it’s hypersonic. And the third thing, which is really the part that has him ready to piss his pants in excitement, is that it is a single-stage-to-orbit aircraft, meaning it can go from runway to freaking outer space on its own power, without the need for jettisoning hardware.

The only other planes currently capable of this kind of flight are the ones flown by the Justice League—the various Batplanes, Wonder Woman’s jet, and of course, the Javelin. Ever since learning Veronica’s been working with the League since its founding a year before, he’s been hard-pressed not to beg her to let him catch a ride on the Javelin on his next shore leave.

Logan joins the group of pilots waiting on their training instructors. There are a dozen pilots from the air force and about half that number from the navy. He’s one of the youngest present, and while he recognizes several of the naval aviators, they are all senior to him. He salutes them each in turn with all the proper respect.

It isn’t long before they are falling into formation outside the appointed hangar shortly before the arrival of their trainers, a group of ten former military pilots now employed or contracted by Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated. At the head of the group of trainers is a well-built pilot Logan recognizes by reputation—Harold “Hal” Jordan, a legend in the US Air Force even though it’s been over a decade since he was honorably discharged. He’s rumored to be a close friend of Oliver Queen’s, which could be why he’s in charge of the S-816 project.

“All right, all right, let’s get this party started!” Jordan says cheerfully as he nears. He returns the salutes of the pilots, then grins at them. “Guess you all are looking forward to seeing the sweet set of wings you guys’ll be flying—if you pass qualifications.”

Jordan nods to one of the other trainers, who hits a remote control so the hangar doors start to slide open. Sitting inside is one of the most beautiful sights Logan has ever had the pleasure to behold. Sleek and sexy, the S-816 looks almost too delicate for the capabilities it’s rumored to have, despite being five times the size of the fighter jet Logan’s used to handling. For a moment, Logan considers that his intel about the plane’s features must be wrong. No way something that compact is capable of launching itself into orbit.

“This, ladies—okay, lady—and gents, is the S-816 single-stage-to-orbit aircraft codenamed Broadhead by the folks at Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated. Isn’t she a beauty?” Jordan beams, as if showing off a wife or a girlfriend. “She’s a ten-seater hypersonic aircraft designed for quick response and short take-off and landing. She handles beautifully in low-orbital and atmospheric levels, and she uses about 40 percent less fuel than an F-22 Raptor. The only place you’ll see better is in the Justice League’s docking bay.”

Logan is goggling. The plane takes passengers?

“Now, I’m not gonna bore you—or maybe give you a nerdgasm—with the details just now since I managed to finagle one of our best pilots, after myself, of course, into giving you guys a demonstration and putting the Broad through her paces. So if you’d all like to hop onto the benches here, we’ve got a couple of planes ready to boogie. I think we’ve got enough to put a trainer on each bench with two trainees, so let me call out assignments.”

The pilots file eagerly onto the benches as their names are called, and from a neighboring hangars, another S-816 rolls out. Logan’s so engrossed watching the plane ease onto the tarmac that he almost doesn’t hear the odd note in Jordan’s voice when he calls his name.

“Lieutenant Logan Echolls?” Brow furrowed, Jordan searches the faces of the pilots who remain standing.

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“Logan Echolls? Out of California?”

Inwardly, Logan groans, convinced Jordan has recognized him from the tabloids. Worse, that Jordan might recognize him because of who his dad was—Aaron Echolls, A-list actor and B-list murderer. But he answers “Sir, yes, sir!” all the same.

Jordan grins widely. “Well, then, this is gonna be one hell of a treat for you.”

“Sir?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing. All will be revealed in due time. You and Captain Steven Hiller here can sit with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once the pilots are settled, Jordan taps an in-ear communicator. “All set, short stack? Start me off with the basics, you know, pitchbacks, barrel rolls, Split Ses, the works. Then I want you to flash me, baby.” He pauses, listening to the pilot, then laughs. “You think you can match me? The other day I did a Kulbit on the Broad.” He pauses again. “Yeah, yeah, talk’s cheap, blondie. Show me what you’ve got, and dinner’s on me tonight. Or, more accurately, on Queen and Wayne. The boys have cleared you for takeoff.”

Logan is slightly appalled by the lack of professionalism Jordan’s displaying. He’s also slightly disturbed by the manic grin Jordan beams his way while he talks to the pilot.

The Broadhead runs through startup sequence, and Logan is relieved to see the pilot go through the proper procedures for a demo. The jet taxis onto the runway. When it gets the green light to take off, it all but slingshots upward. For the next several minutes, the pilot runs through all the basic air maneuvers, as per Jordan’s instructions. Logan is enthralled. It’s beautiful.

Then Jordan taps his coms again. “How’s the ride, snarkmeister?” He listens for a bit, then grins. “All righty then. Take the Broad up, up and away for a sub-orbital, then come back and show off a little.”

The plane accelerates drastically before the nose goes up and it climbs higher and higher until it’s out of sight. Out of atmosphere, Logan realizes, thrilled despite himself. They have a couple of minutes of searching the skies for the Broad’s reentry.

Then Logan suppresses a gasp as it plunges back into the atmosphere, nose down at what looks to be a 90-degree angle or close to it. He has a second to think that this is all part of the plan, but Jordan is standing and cussing and yelling at the pilot.

“Pull up, pull-up, you mother-frakking idiot! You’re not going to leave me explaining to Wayne and Queen why I let their golden girl go splat on a freaking demo!”

The Broadhead continues to plummet downward in a stall, and Logan is absolutely sure no one is breathing and everyone is convinced they’re about to see plane and pilot crash into the ground before their eyes. Then just a few hundred meters from the ground, the engines fire, and the pilot pulls the plane into a roll that should not be possible, given the laws of physics, before coming back round at an insanely low altitude and doing a flyby for the gasping pilots.

“Oh, you vicious, fear mongering bitch,” Jordan says, and while his voice is down to a growl, he is grinning like an idiot.

The plane does a couple of barrel rolls, and then Logan is sucking in his breath as the pilot gets down to business. He—or she, judging from Jordan’s exclamations—executes a series of super maneuvers that really shouldn’t be doable with an aircraft of that size and bulk.

The pilot does a ludicrously slow tail slide, and then proceeds to psych out Jordan by executing the move the trainer had bragged about—the Kulbit, or Somersault, which involves a move known as the Pugachev’s Cobra that then transitions into a back flip. And just as the plane is coming out of its stall, the crazy person in the cockpit does another one. Just for shits and giggles.

Logan is impressed with the pilot’s balls and also appalled by the blatant showboating. Although, he considers, if there’s one place where it’s legitimately okay to showboat while in an airplane, it’s got to be the demo of one of the advanced aeronautic systems in the world.

By the time the S-816 Broadhead has landed and taxied back near their vicinity, the pilots are all on their feet and cheering. The access ramp drops. The pilot deplanes. And Logan’s jaw hits the floor.

Jordan is already rushing forward. “Veronica Mars, you unmitigated bitch! You almost had me peeing my pants. You are so fucking dead the moment Wayne sees the video of this demo.”

“Eh,” Veronica says, waving a dismissive hand. “Brucie will just ask me if I can do the same with the Javelin. Which, duh, of course? My Javi trumps the Broad any day of the week.”

Jordan pouts. “You shouldn’t say mean things about my lady where she can hear.”

Veronica smirks. “It’s a plane, Jordan. Way to anthropomorphize. Plus my demos sold the navy on the Broad when only the air force was gonna bite, given the budget. Gotta live while the living’s easy, ya know? Batman doesn’t let me take the Javelin or the Batplane through her paces like you let me do on the Broad.”

“Yeah, the Bat will never let you take his baby out with the way you drive.”

“He only ever hogs the newest plane.” She sighs a little dreamily. “Can you imagine what I could do with the Javelin or that new Batwing, given their underwater capabilities? And what’s with this BS with using a STOL system on the Broad? Why not go for vertical take-off and landing instead of the hassle of needing a runway? The Broad can’t even hover, for crying out loud.”

Jordan shrugs. “Dunno, probably didn’t wanna pay for the extra.” He pauses, then seems to remember the two dozen pilots—trainers and trainees alike—who are goggling at them. “Come meet the baby pilots! Oh, and boy, have I got a surprise for you!”

But Veronica has already caught sight of Logan standing alongside the navy pilots. She stops dead in her tracks. “Logan?” She gapes for a minute, and Logan basks in the pleasure of having thoroughly surprised Ms. No-Surprises Mars herself.

“Hey, bobcat,” he says before he can stop himself. Inwardly he groans. This is why he earned the call sign “Mouth”—he was always letting his run away with him. But he knows the only thing for it is to plunge onward, so he smirks and says, “That was some flying you did there.”

She grins. “Heya, stranger. Glad you liked it. If I’d known you were watching, I’d have—”

“Hey, quit with the bragging, ninja munchkin!” Jordan says. “Although truth be told, Echolls, your girl’s got balls bigger than Superman’s pecs.”

Veronica snorts. “Now there’s a disturbing image. And by the way, to quote Walt Whitman, ‘If you done it, it ain’t bragging.’ Now go do some trainery stuff or whatever Ollie’s supposed to be paying you to do. I’m gonna catch up with my friend here.” She shoves him toward the crowd of pilots gathered around the Broadhead. "Oh, and Hal? I so totally won our little bet, so you owe both Logan and me dinner."

"Hey, no one said anything about the flyboy!"

"Did I not just make you squeal like a bitch over the coms?" Veronica asks sweetly. When Jordan replies with a one-fingered salute before stomping over to the other pilots, she just laughs. The amusement and leftover adrenaline are still sparkling in her eyes when she turns to Logan. “So, how do you like the Broad?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m just glad I didn’t know it was you at the controls until you were safely on the ground. Why didn’t you tell me you could fly circles around me? Or, like, virtually every pilot in the world?”

She smirks. “I doubt that. I’m only really qualified for the civilian-friendly stuff like the Broad or the Javelin—I'd have no clue what to do in an F-22 Raptor, for example. You’ll see how easy it is to handle the S-816 once you get into the training. Most of it’s really just getting acquainted with orbital protocols, I think. The flying part, you should pick up after a couple of times at the stick, if not the very first time you take control.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

She’s watching his face. “I can tell,” she says, smiling. Then she leans closer. “I’m here a few days, so if you’re off after your training sessions, we should catch up. As long as you don’t get in trouble for fraternizing with the contractors, or whatever.”

He grins. “Definitely. And don’t think I’m not going to pick your brain about the Broadhead. Or the Javelin or Batplane, for that matter.”

She tilts her head at him in that way that has always, always resulted in his capitulation to whatever she asks for. “Tell you what. Come to Gotham next time you’ve got liberty stateside, and I’ll borrow one of the Batplanes. We can do J-turns over the Atlantic.”

He’d have said yes to just dinner. Or coffee, even. But flying the Batplane? No wonder he’s been in love with her for half his life. He smiles, trying not to look as completely schmoopy as he feels. “It’s a date.”


	3. Enchant (or, V Pranks the League, Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica is attacked by a sorceress and turned into a kitten. The Justice League is immediately hit by a bad case of cute aggression. 
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 17 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a prequel to Chapter/Day 6: “Exposed.” Since it's not important in _this_ work to keep things in order, I've rearranged these outtakes so you can read the "V Pranks the League" ficlets in chronological order.
> 
> This scene takes place about four or five years after the end of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” It’s pretty much crack fic from my crossoververse, so I’m not sure it’s going to make it into ‘verse canon at this point. We shall see, I guess.

Everyone knows Batman hates magic. So when Wonder Woman recruits Veronica Mars’s help with a missing persons investigation and the evidence points to the sorceress and self-proclaimed goddess Circe as the prime suspect, the Justice League is leery of contacting Gotham’s Dark Knight for assistance. In fact, they call in several members to come help before the Bat gets wind of what’s going on and swoops in to save the day with a sorceress of his own in tow.

By the time this happens, however, five members of the Justice League have already been hit by an enchantment that turns them into kittens. And while something in the magic and metahuman physiology helps Zatanna turn Superman, Supergirl, the Flash, and Wonder Woman back into their normal selves right away, it doesn’t seem to work for Veronica.

“I’m sorry, Br-Batman,” Zatanna says, although she can’t seem to stop giggling and stroking tabby-Veronica’s soft fur as she says it, so the apology seems a little insincere. “I’m pretty sure the spell will fade in a day or two, and worst case I can try again at the full moon in three days. John Constantine should be back from that other dimension by then, and he likes Veronica, so he’s sure to be willing to help.”

“Hnn.” Batman hugs the kitten in his arms to him protectively.

“I’ll call my dad when we get back to the Watchtower and ask if he can suggest anything,” Zatanna promises.

“Batman, perhaps I should hold on to Veronica,” Wonder Woman says, greed in her eyes. “Should the spell wear off, she may be disoriented to find herself with you.”

The Gotham vigilante glares at the Amazon. “She trusts me.”

“That’s right,” Superman says, coming closer to hover beside the Bat. “Veronica should stay with Batman and me. She’s known us the longest, so we’ll keep her calm and happy. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?” The Kryptonian coos as he scratches under Veronica’s chin, making her purr.

“Batman to Watchtower. Seven to transport.”

Aquaman is at Watchtower control. “Bat? Scanner’s reading only six signatures, and a…cat?”

“That’s right. Seven to transport.”

“Oh-kay. You got it.”

In a flash of light, the Justice League heroes and kitty-Veronica are in the transport bay of the Watchtower.

“Oh, man, I have got to get me a picture of kitty-Nica,” the Flash says, booping Veronica on the nose with a finger, which she swats at with a little paw, reducing the scarlet speedster into a puddle of goo.

“No,” Batman growls.

“Pleeeeeease?” Flash does his best to give Batman puppy eyes, but Batman has had years of Veronica Mars’s head tilts and hair flips, and he remains unmoved, stalking forward with the kitten in his arms, everyone trailing behind like besotted ducklings.

“Batman, can I please, please, please pleasepleasepleaseplease hold her?” Supergirl begs, floating to the Dark Knight’s side. “Please?”

“No.”

Batman takes Veronica to the infirmary, where a bemused J’onn J’onzz declares the kitten to be in perfect health, if a little hungry.

“Debrief in 20,” Batman barks out at the other heroes, all of whom have trailed after him and are crowded around the infirmary bed where Veronica is sitting. They are making cooing noises at the little cat, who yawns at them, making Supergirl, Flash, and Zatanna squee in delight. Batman stalks over and scoops the kitten up, then stomps out.

The others follow, or try to, until Batman disappears into his quarters. Disappointed, they turn away. Superman hovers outside Batman’s room, then keys in his code to gain access. When the door slides open to admit the Kryptonian, Superman beams at the sight of an uncowled Batman feeding Veronica strips of smoked salmon at the small dining table on one side of the room. A bowl of milk sits beside her.

“Gosh, she’s so cute,” Superman says. He gives up all pretense of dignity and just floats in the air on his belly, matching the height of the table, as he watches the kitten daintily take a strip of salmon from Batman’s gauntleted hand. “I’m not sure you should be feeding her smoked salmon though. Isn’t that not too healthy for cats?”

“It is not ideal,” Batman acknowledges. “There is too much sodium. But it should not negatively impact her in the long-term, as I expect she will be back to normal in a few days at the latest.”

“I’ll almost be sorry.” Superman grins manically as Veronica finishes off the last of the salmon, stretches, and rolls over on her back, only to blink at the Kryptonian and walk to the edge of the table to rub up against his cheek. “Aww, she’s so cuddly like this!”

“She is more tense with the others around. I suspect you might be right in insisting that she stay with either of us until she is back to normal.”

“I’d be happy to cat-sit!”

“Of course you would.”

“Hey, didn’t you tell me once that the League of Assassins calls Veronica ‘kitten’?”

Batman snorts. “Yes. Ra’s al Ghul’s idea. Depending on which League member you are speaking with, it’s a term of affection or derision.”

“Can you imagine if Flash did take a photo, and we sent it to him?”

“Superman, we are not sending the Head of the Demon a photo of Veronica, especially not while she is enchanted.”

“I know, I know. But just think of what his face would look like!”

Batman smirks. “That’s nothing. Imagine Lex Luthor’s face.”

Superman chokes, then starts to giggle uncontrollably. “Or the Joker’s!” he gasps.

Just then, Bruce’s phone rings. Batman checks the caller ID, then answers it without bothering to take off his cowl. “Hi Mac,” he says.

“Bruce,” the hacker says.

“Hi Mac!” Superman says, laughter still in his voice.

“Clark.” She frowns. “I heard Veronica and some of the JL got hit by Circe.”

“Yes,” Bruce says. “They were turned into kittens. All but Veronica have been restored to their original forms.”

Mac frowns. “Say what?”

“Veronica was turned into a kitten and remains as such.” Bruce tilts his phone so kitty-Veronica can peer into the camera. She does, and meows authoritatively.

Mac’s eyes widen, and her jaw drops for a moment. Then she starts snickering. “Are you telling me that that—” she waves at the screen “—is Veronica Mars?”

“Yes.”

She starts to laugh. “Ohmigod, that is just precious.”

“No videos, no photos.” Bruce scowls.

“No worries,” she tells him. “You think I’m suicidal? Veronica would kill me.”

“You’re smarter than the Flash is,” Superman comments.

Mac snickers. “That’s not exactly an impressive benchmark. I take it you guys are going to take care of her ‘til she’s back to normal?”

“Hnn.”

“We’ll take care of her, Mac,” Clark reassures her.

“Good.”

After they hang up, they take the kitten to the conference room with them, where Wonder Woman and the rest debrief them on the investigation and battle. Batman tells her to write up a report, then adjourns the meeting. He and Clark then take Veronica to a lounge, where Clark plays with the kitten while Bruce works on a tablet. After a few hours, Zatanna comes by.

“My dad gave me some suggestions to try,” she says. “They won’t hurt her if they don’t work, and they should help transform her back if they do.”

“Fine,” Batman says, plucking the kitten off his shoulder where she has perched, then setting her down on the couch.

Zatanna pulls out a wand and murmurs a spell. There’s a flash of light, and suddenly Veronica is standing on the sofa. Except that the transformation isn’t complete. Veronica still sports a tail and whiskers, fuzzy cat ears, and paws instead of hands and feet.

“What the actual fuck, guys?” Veronica demands. “Meow!” Her eyes widen at the sound and she clasps both her front paws over her mouth.

Batman smirks. “You were turned into a kitten,” he says.

Zatanna sighs. “And remain partially so, I’m afraid. It should wear off in a day or so. Less, if you’re lucky.”

Veronica’s eyes narrow into slits. “So it was Circe?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck! I fucking hate magic. Mrrrrow!”

“Yes.”

Superman pats her on the top of her head to commiserate. Veronica starts to purr, then freezes. She hisses instead, and Superman pulls back, holding his hands up to show he means no harm. But he’s grinning madly.

“Oh shut up,” she grumbles.

“I haven’t said anything!” Clark yelps.

“You were thinking it very loudly,” she accuses. “Mrrow!”

It’s at that point that Batman loses it and starts laughing is head off. Superman and Zatanna join him. Veronica just glares.

“I hate you guys so much,” she says, crossing her paws and scowling.

Batman smirks. “Meow again. See if we care.”


	4. Exposed (or, V Pranks the League, Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the world learns that Veronica Mars is the premiere prankster in the Justice League. 
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 6 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a sequel to the ficlet posted for Day 17, "Enchant." Since it's not important in _this_ work to keep things in order, I've rearranged these outtakes so you can read the "V Pranks the League" ficlets in chronological order.
> 
> This scene takes place about four or five years after the end of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” It’s pretty much crack fic from my crossoververse, so I’m not sure it’s going to make it into ‘verse canon at this point. We shall see, I guess.

Veronica has always hated that every member of the Justice League, in the interest of keeping their public image open and approachable, is required to maintain a positive, upbeat presence in social media. For the most part, everyone keeps things on the up-and-up, posting inspiring messages, raising awareness about important issues, sharing (preapproved) photos and videos of their lives as superheroes.

The latter is actually a priority for the Justice League, as a measure to counteract the growing anti-superhero groups that claim the League is disconnected from humanity, from day-to-day living. Heroes routinely post photos of their food, workouts, and so forth. They go out on the streets and take photos with fans (with the exception of a few, like Batman, who never does any of those things).

The heroes all have massive followings, especially the seven founding members—Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and the Martian Manhunter. Several other members are also very popular with the public, such as the Green Arrow, Supergirl, Nightwing, Black Canary, and Zatanna. The League organizes workshops and briefings to keep everyone in the know about trends and League policies when it comes to publicity matters.

But sometimes it becomes _very_ clear that, for all they are mighty defenders of the planet, the Justice League is made up of a whole bunch of overgrown, overpowered children. Squabbles and oneupmanship challenges have been known to erupt into all-out Twitter wars, with the public siding with their favorite heroes. Hal Jordan (one of the four human Green Lanterns) is especially good at heckling both villains and heroes, and the Flash and the Green Arrow are not far behind.

For the most part, the heroes leave the Trinity—Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman—out of their little squabbles, and Batman has added a “don’t mess with Veronica Mars” rule to the League PR policies.

Ostensibly, this is because Veronica is the main liaison between the world’s government, civilian, and media agencies and therefore must maintain a certain public image. Actually, this is because Veronica is the League’s leading prankster, and she spares no one from her wrath when she believes she’s righteous in her revenge. Unfortunately, this is far from a well-kept secret among members of the Justice League

So it is really only a matter of time before someone exposes Veronica’s passion for retaliation—what the Leaguers have started calling the “V Is for Vengeance” phenomenon—to the info-greedy eyes of the Internet.

And Batman, being the secret troll that he is, doesn’t just sit back and let it happen—he actively encourages it.

It starts when a run-in with the sorceress Circe results in a handful of Justice League heroes getting turned into kittens. While Superman, Supergirl, the Flash, and Wonder Woman are back to their humanoid selves in no time thanks to their alien, divine, or metahuman genetics, poor Veronica gets stuck as a cat for several hours longer.

And when she does start transforming back, it’s a slow, incremental process. Which means that, at one point, she spends the better part of a day as a woman who just happens to have a long kitty-cat tail, the cutest little paws instead of hands and feet, a whiskered nose, and soft cat ears on the top of her head.

She can’t go out in public and the paws make operating a computer or smart phone impossible. Some remaining kittenish instincts leave her involuntarily purring and relaxing whenever she falls victim to the incessant petting by superheroes who’ve been turned into gooey cooing messes by the sheer cuteness of her.

Though she snarks back at the League members who take the opportunity to tease (especially when she meows and yowls instead of sneers and shouts), it is the Flash (of course) who steps over the line. He snaps a photo of Superman stroking one of Veronica’s cat ears while she’s curled on a couch with her feet on Batman’s lap while the Gotham vigilante works on routine system upgrades. Not only that, but he posts the photo on Twitter.

**@TheFlash  
** _The #JusticeLeague has our own little kittycat at the Watchtower tonight! A magical hit leaves @VeronicaMars even cuter than usual—@Superman & @Batman seem to agree!_

The tweet goes viral. The entire hero community shares it. Beyond the Justice League, it gets retweeted by the BatClan, the Outsiders, the Teen Titans, the Avengers, the X-Men, and even the Fantastic Four.

Not only that, but even the _supervillains_ are digitally cooing over the photo. Ra’s al Ghul (and no one knows _why_ the head of the League of Assassins is even _on_ Twitter) replies to the tweet with a photo of a snowy white cat Veronica jokingly gifted him five years ago. Lex Luthor offers to have his personal chef make her gourmet catnip and kibble if she’d just abandon the alien and come and work for him. The Joker even posts a selfie in which he holds up a green-and-purple kitty-collar with a large bell on it.

Unable to chase down the Flash (he isn’t called the fastest man alive for nothing) and prevented from replying or retaliating online by annoying kitten paws for sixteen more hours, Veronica mewls and yowls and makes dire promises about the future of the scarlet speedster.

The heroes at the Watchtower are overwhelmed by cute aggression just watching and listening to her. They take photos by the dozen, but none are foolhardy enough to post them. This turns out to be a wise decision when the spell finally wears off and Veronica has hands and fingers again.

The first thing she does is get on Twitter.

**@VeronicaMars**  
Replying to @TheFlash  
_You better keep running @TheFlash, because my revenge will be complete and devastating. You will never see it coming, and you will be tempted to travel back in time to undo your stupidity before I__’m done with you._

Which the rest of the Justice League (not to mention Veronica’s family and friends) took as an invitation to break the Internet.

**@GreenArrow**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_Damn @TheFlash you__’re screwed now. No one gets their revenge on like @VeronicaMars. #VisforVengeance is a thing!_

**@Superman**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_Oh @TheFlash, you__’re never getting snickerdoodles again. @VeronicaMars: I’m happy to take his share of the cookies #VisforVengeance_

**@Aquaman**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_Better lock up your food & valuables if the half-pint is coming for you @TheFlash #VisforVengeance_

**@WonderWoman**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_I am eternally grateful none of your pranks were ever directed at me. #VisforVengeance_

**@GreenLantern**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_Even the guardians tremble when @VeronicaMars is on a retaliation rampage #VisforVengeance_

**@BoosterGold**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_Glad its not me for once. Good luck, @TheFlash. Nice knowing ya #VisforVengeance_

**@Nightwing**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_Hahaha! @TheFlash: Dude, you are so dead #VisforVengeance_

**@TheRealRobin**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_You may inform me if you require any assistance, Mars. #VisforVengeance_

**@BlackCanary**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_Oh god. I remember what you did to @GreenArrow'__s bike after he ate the leftover lasagna your dad sent. #VisforVengeance_

**@WallaceFennel**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars  
_All these Justice League peeps using #VisforVengeance is making me nostalgic. Oh the stories I could tell, @VeronicaMars_

**@GreenArrow**  
Replying to @WallaceFennel @VeronicaMars  
_I don__’t know who you are, but I’m dying to hear these stories #VisforVengeance_

**@LoganEcholls**  
Replying to @WallaceFennel @VeronicaMars  
_Same here, Fennel, same here. In fact, I have three words for you: bong in locker. Oh, here are two more: frame up. And that__’s just one story I could share._

**@VeronicaMars**  
Replying to @WallaceFennel @LoganEcholls  
_Don__’t you dare, @WallaceFennel! And @LoganEcholls aren’t you supposed to be deployed somewhere? Why are you even on Twitter?_

**@LoganEcholls**  
Replying to @WallaceFennel @VeronicaMars  
_Shore leave, bobCAT._

**@Supergirl**  
Replying to @WallaceFennel @LoganEcholls @VeronicaMars  
_Do tell, do tell! #VisforVengeance_

It only takes a few hours for #VisforVengeance to start trending worldwide. Heroes, villains, celebrities, and civilians the world over beg for #VisforVengeance stories. Websites, blogs, and all sorts of news outlets and tabloids start running exposes on the secret pranks of superheroes—never mind that Veronica has always vehemently denied the label. Veronica sends out a message to all her contacts warning against giving in to the pressure.

And then Batman, that most obnoxious of rodent-trolls, decides to undermine her authority.

**@Batman**  
_#VisforVengeance #WatchtowerTales #dyebomb #boobytraps  
_[Photo attached: A comically shocked-looking Superman with his hand on the lid of a cookie jar, his face and torso splattered in neon pink dye]

**@GreenArrow**  
[Retweeting @Batman’s photo]  
_We should totally caption this. Suggestion: How a greedy @Superman learned not to steal all @VeronicaMars_ _’ snickerdoodles from the communal cookie jar at the cafeteria. #VisforVengeance #WatchtowerTales #dyebomb #boobytraps_

After that? Well, as the Green Lantern likes to say, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

**@GreenLantern**  
Replying to @Batman  
_What about the time @Cyborg thought it would be funny to give @VeronicaMars a lame fake identity name for an undercover case? His hand got stuck in a one-finger salute for 4 hours! Still don_ _’t know how she did it. #VisforVengeance #WatchtowerTales  
_[Photo attached]

**@Aquaman**  
Replying to @Batman  
_I remember when @BoosterGold wouldn_ _’t stop hitting on the #JusticeLeague ladies, and @VeronicaMars stuck a remote controlled mini shocker in his codpiece. #VisforVengeance #WatchtowerTales_

**@GreenLantern**  
Replying to @Batman @Aquaman  
_Or when @Aquaman wrecked her date with @LoganEcholls by crashing a water spout on them. She dismantled the tank in his room & replaced it with an inflatable kiddie pool, complete with rubber duckies. #VisforVengeance #WatchtowerTales_

**@Nightwing  
** _Pre-#JusticeLeague #VisforVengeance story: @Superman gives @VeronicaMars _ _“flight training” by nudging her off a building then catching her at the last minute. She sneaks into his place, mixes @Batman’s special glue into his hair gel right before he goes on a date with @LoisLane._

**@LoisLane**  
Replying to @Nightwing @VeronicaMars @Superman  
_Oh god, is THAT what happened? He kissed me and I slid my hand into his hair—it would__’ve been romantic if it hadn’t gotten stuck there. #VisforVengeance_

**@Batman**  
Replying to @LoisLane @Nightwing @VeronicaMars @Superman  
#VisforVengeance  
[Video attached: Lois pulling at her hand, which is buried in Superman’s hair and obviously stuck there. The reporter is squealing, “Let me go!” while the Kryptonian is protesting, “It’s not me! I didn’t do this!” After a moment, Superman can be heard making a phone call. “Batman, I need help!”]

**@Nightwing**  
Replying to @LoisLane @Batman @VeronicaMars @Superman  
_B, why have you never shown me this video? I__’m literally crying from laughing so hard._

**@VeronicaMars**  
Replying to @LoisLane @Batman @Nightwing @Superman  
_Sorry about that, Lois. Didn__’t realize until Supes called B that you’d become collateral damage in the war against Kryptonian brattiness._

**@LoisLane**  
Replying to @VeronicaMars @Nightwing @Batman @Superman  
_Extenuating circumstances, Nica darling. #VisforVengeance was certainly warranted if he pushed you off a building, even as a joke._

**@Superman**  
Replying to @LoisLane @Nightwing @VeronicaMars @Batman  
_I__’ll get you for this, @Batman! #VisforVengeance_

**@Nightwing**  
Replying to @LoisLane @Batman @VeronicaMars @Superman  
_Uh oh, I think I know what__’s coming. #VisforVengeance_

**@Superman**  
_That time when @Batman stuck @VeronicaMars on desk duty for a month and she retaliated by sticking fake black nipples on all the batsuits and drawing abs on the armor. #VisforVengeance #WatchtowerTales  
_[Photo attached]

Superman’s Twitter account is hacked less than sixty seconds later, and the tweet is deleted. The photo disappears from the Internet completely—even screen grabs are automatically wiped from the computers they are saved on. The story becomes one of those Internet legends that never dies, despite there being no proof of it.

The next morning, Ellen DeGeneres calls Veronica up to beg her to come on her show. “I feel the need to genuflect before the goddess of pranks,” the comedienne says.

Bruce and Clark prod Veronica into agreeing.

During her next trip out to Central City, Veronica manages to add extra-hot chili sauce or chili powder to the contents of everything in the Flash’s refrigerator and pantry. She even injects chili oil into his Twinkies and doses his milk.

And as for Batman? Veronica replaces the entire contents of Bruce Wayne’s underwear drawer with sequined and/or glow-in-the-dark Justice League-themed boxer briefs.


	5. Leverage (or, V Pranks the League, Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Justice League outs her as their princess of pranking, turning her into a social media sensation, Veronica Mars goes on a celebrity talk show.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 22 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place several years after the end of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” It is a kind of followup previous ficlets I’ve published for Promptober, namely “Day 17: Enchant” and “Day 6: Exposed.” It concludes the "V Pranks the League" arc of ficlets.

“Our next guest is the official liaison for the Justice League to the United Nations, the US government, and just about any agency that wants to work with the world’s favorite heroes, and it turns out, the leading prankster of the Justice League, please welcome Veronica Mars!”

Hearing Ellen DeGeneres introduce her to the nation is a little bit surreal, but Veronica has no time for butterflies in her belly because Jessie J’s “Bang Bang” featuring Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj—_why is this the song chosen for her?_ she has a moment to wonder—and one of the production assistants catches her eye and makes an exaggerated grinding move, obviously urging her to dance, while simultaneously ushering her forward.

Veronica rolls her eyes inwardly, then sends the woman a glare she learned from the Bat, not waiting to see her straighten and look just a little bit scared before striding out toward the show’s host. She pastes a media-friendly smile on her face and waves to the audience. She learned _that_ from Brucie.

Ellen DeGeneres is making a show of genuflecting as she steps up to the platform, and Veronica rolls her eyes at her, making the host laugh as she accepts a hug. Ellen starts dancing and waggles her eyebrows at her, making Veronica roll her eyes again and start dancing.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Ellen exclaims. She turns to the audience. “You don’t know how much I begged and begged for this woman to come on this show after reading the stories the Justice League were posting on Twitter last week. Did you all get to see those? If not, all you have to do is check out #VisforVengeance.”

“Oh god,” Veronica says, laughing. “Please don’t check that hashtag out.”

“What are you talking about, it’s amazing!” the comedienne gushes. “I mean, who in the world has the guts to prank the Dark Knight?”

Veronica smiles. “You’d be surprised. Superman, Arrow, Nightwing, and I are probably the worst culprits, but there are a few other brave souls out there.”

“And does he ever seek, uh, justice?”

_Oh, if only you knew_. Veronica makes a show of wincing. “The Bat likes to deal out justice in the training room, and since he oversees the training for the whole of the League, that’s a _lot_ of justice he can dish out.”

“And I guess he has other means of revenge as well, given that Superman’s Twitter account was hacked right after he teased Batman about one of your pranks, the evidence of which has mysteriously disappeared from the internet.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Veronica says with a smirk.

“I really wish you would,” Ellen says mournfully. “I would love to have a copy of that photo Superman tweeted.” She shakes her head. “So I wanted to ask about how all this pranking began. I guess a lot of us have a tendency to hero-worship the Justice League, and I’ll admit I never thought of the Watchtower as being a place where these kinds of shenanigans would take place.”

Veronica grins. “That’s probably how Batman would prefer it, if you asked him.” They share a laugh. “But the truth is, the Justice League is largely made up of people who live everyday lives and just happen to sometimes do extraordinary things.”

Ellen leans forward. “I have never heard the Justice League described that way,” she says. “Usually people talk about how heroic they are, about their super powers. We never hear about the heroes’ everyday lives.”

“Well, probably that’s because almost all the heroes, in order to maintain those everyday lives, have secret civilian identities.”

The comedienne’s eyes light up, and Veronica knows why. The secret identities of the Justice League has been a hot topic for years, but has never been confirmed by an official League member. However, the founders recently decided to confirm this as part of their measures to keep the League’s public image positive, especially since this is pretty much an open secret at this point. Veronica just happens to be a convenient vehicle for this, thanks to her sudden popularity.

“So you’re confirming that the Justice League all have secret identities, that they live regular lives, work jobs like regular people, have families, that sort of thing?”

“Well, most of them do,” Veronica confirms.

“Even the… ah… aliens?”

“Most,” Veronica says with a smile. “Some, due to how recognizable they would be even out of uniform, are unable to, but the vast majority of the League—whether they are humans, metahumans, or aliens—do have civilian identities and all that come with them.” She smirks. “A lot of them went through high school and college, so you can imagine that once there were more than a few of us on the Watchtower, it was a little like living in a giant dorm with a bunch of people with highly specialized skill sets.”

“The Watchtower as a college dorm,” Ellen is repeating, delight in her face. “Ohmigosh, you have _got_ to share some stories about that.”

Veronica raises an eyebrow and lets one side of her mouth quirk up in a smile. “Well, I could perhaps be persuaded to share a few things.”

“Oh, do tell!” Ellen says. “How like a dorm is the Watchtower? Are there frat boys? Sorority girls? Where does all the drama happen?”

“Slow down.” Veronica laughs. “All right. Frat boys? That one’s easy. The Green Lanterns! Sorority girls, I’m not so sure about. Though Black Canary and I did introduce Wonder Woman, Hawkgirl, and Supergirl to the concept of slumber parties and nail painting sessions, and now there’s a standing date for it each month. Some of the guys come and join us too, so it’s not just a girl thing these days.”

“I can’t imagine Batman or Superman painting anyone’s nails,” Ellen says.

_You__’d be surprised_, Veronica thinks, and smothers a grin. But she angles her head and shrugs. “Not everyone paints nails, but everybody knows it’s the best way to get dialed up on all the gossip, and if you aren’t there, the gossip is more than likely to be about you. So a lot of people show up just to hang out. And to answer your last question: the cafeteria.”

“The cafeteria?”

Veronica smiles. “Where all the drama happens. Although I’d say second place for that has got to be the training room, and then the monitor womb.”

“Monitor womb?”

“Yes, as you know, the Justice League is on call to help out with both crimes and natural disasters, so someone is always in the room we call the monitor womb, watching screens to observe weather patterns, keep an eye on any developing situations in case heroes need backup, that kind of thing.” Veronica waves a hand. “They started offering tours to media and government officials last year, I believe.” She knows.

“I’d definitely want to sign up for one of those!” Ellen says enthusiastically.

“I’m sure it would be no problem. You have quite a few fans among the League.”

Blue eyes widen. “Really?”

Veronica grins. “Of course! In fact, when you called, and a few of them found out, they just about nagged me into accepting at the first available date.”

Ellen grins widely. “I’m glad.” Then she goes back into host mode. “So tell me about the pranks! I mean, I’ve pranked a few celebrities—”

“More than a few, I’d say,” Veronica says, laughing. “I’ve enjoyed watching the clips on YouTube.”

“But I’ve never tried pranking a superhero! And it seems you’ve pranked just about every superhero on the League.”

“Not everyone. I do have to work sometimes.”

“Well, all of the founding members, then!”

Veronica shakes her head, smiling. “I’ve never had reason to pull a prank on Wonder Woman. I only prank people as a retaliatory measure, never proactively. And Diana has never done anything to deserve it!”

“So who deserves it the most?” Ellen’s eyes are hungry for information.

“The Flash,” Veronica says promptly, so promptly the whole audience bursts into laughter.

“He’s the reason all of this came to light in the first place, isn’t it?” Ellen asks when the laughter and applause dies down.

“Him, and Batman,” Veronica says. She grins. “I’ve already exacted my revenge for their efforts in turning me into an internet sensation.”

Ellen tries to prod for details on what Veronica has done, but she refuses to share. The host quickly diverts to her original topic. “So as I understand it, it all started when the Flash tweeted a rather sweet photo of you.”

Veronica groans. “You’re going to show the photo, aren’t you?”

“I have a duty to my audience,” the comedienne deadpans.

On cue, the big screen behind them shows the Flash’s tweet, complete with a photo of her when she’d been stuck midway between cat and human after a magical battle gone wrong. She is on a couch reading a file while Superman sits beside her stroking the soft kitty ears at the top of her head, his expression indulgent. Batman works on a tablet while Veronica’s feet—paws—rest on his lap.

Veronica is covering her face with her hands. “Oh god,” she says, laughing in embarrassment. “My friends still won’t let me live that down.”

“You do make a pretty cute kitty cat,” Ellen says, grinning. “But what’s interesting is the tweet you sent a few hours later.” The photo changes to an image of Veronica’s tweet. “Can you read it aloud?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Veronica sighs. “It says, ‘You better keep running @TheFlash, because my revenge will be complete and devastating. You will never see it coming, and you will be tempted to travel back in time to undo your stupidity before I’m done with you.’”

“That’s a pretty hefty threat.”

“I’ve been working with Batman for too long,” Veronica jokes. “Seriously, though, I was just trash talking. And we’re all good now. Flash and I grabbed burgers at his favorite diner the other day.”

“That’s good to know.” Ellen laughs. “But it seems the rest of the Justice League decided to jump in on the conversation and started using the hashtag ‘VisforVengeance.’”

Veronica purses her lips. “Yeah, it’s a bit of an in-house joke, I guess. Then Batman decided to post a photo, and that’s when things got crazy.”

“I believe the term is ‘broke the internet,’” Ellen teases. “And because the photo made me laugh so hard I almost dropped my phone, it bears sharing.” The screen behind them shifts again, to show Batman’s tweet, which shows Superman with his mouth agape, face and uniform splattered with pink dye.

Veronica just shakes her head and laughs. “I still can’t believe he tweeted that.”

“I believe the Green Arrow suggested a caption for it.” The host reads the next part off a note card. “‘How a greedy Superman learned not to steal all Veronica Mars’ snickerdoodles from the communal cookie jar at the cafeteria.’”

“The thing you have to understand,” Veronica says slowly, “is that oftentimes the heroes with super strength and super speed also have super appetites.”

“How do you mean?”

“Think about the number of calories an Olympic athlete burns daily, and multiply that by a factor of ten, or even a hundred, in some cases. Now the Flash is Mr. Junk Food. But Supes? He’s got a sweet tooth. And he’s an absolute cookie monster.”

“Superman is a cookie fiend?” Ellen looks delighted again.

“You bet your life he is,” Veronica confirms. “Eventually I got sick of having him wipe out the cookie stash. So I thought I’d booby trap the cookie jar.” She shrugs. “I did play fair. I put up a sign saying no one was to touch the cookies until later that evening, as I was saving them for movie night. I would’ve taken the trap off then, so it’s his own fault he got, well, ‘pinked.’”

Ellen laughs delightedly. She then runs through a few of the more popular tweets from the #VisforVengeance thread and has Veronica explain what happened with them. The comedienne looks regretful when one of the production assistants warns her they’re going to go into overtime.

“Okay, we’ve got to wrap this up, I’m afraid, but you can bet I’m going to do my best to have you back here sometime soon!” Ellen says. “I just have a few more rapid fire questions for you, sent in by our viewers, if that’s all right?”

“Sure.”

“All right. Which members of the Justice League do you work with the most?”

“Batman, Superman, and Green Arrow. After that, probably Black Canary and Nightwing.”

“Do you know the secret identities of the Justice League?”

_Yes, of course_. “Although the League requires every hero with access to the Watchtower to have at least two other League members who know their identities, we don’t all know who everyone is outside the capes and masks.”

“Who’s the worst villain you’ve ever dealt with personally?”

Veronica purses her lips. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“All right. Which member of the Justice League is likely to prank you back for a prank you pulled?”

“Batman.”

Ellen’s eyebrows shoot up, obviously prodding for more information. Veronica smiles, but keeps her mouth shut. “What’s the best part about working with the Justice League?”

She grins. “That’s an easy one. I get to play with all the toys!”

The audience laughs, and so does Ellen. “All right, last one. Who’s the most powerful member of the Justice League?”

“Huh. That’s a tough one, because everyone’s got different strengths and weaknesses, and the whole point of the League is to help each other complement the former and compensate for the latter when it comes to global threats.” She realizes what a serious answer this is, though, and decides to lighten things up. “Of course, if you were going to ask who’s got the most leverage with the League…” She grins as Ellen leans forward eagerly. “Let’s just say I have several videos stored away that many of the capes would prefer never saw the light of day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for [Irma66](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irma66/), who wanted me to get Veronica Mars and Bruce Wayne on the Ellen Show as part of my "Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham" fic. This is way, way later, and part of the crack that may or may not make it into the actual series, but here you go.


	6. Patient (or, Logan Echolls Is Used to Waiting on Veronica Mars)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dating Veronica Mars always did require a lot of patience. Now that she’s a member of the Justice League, this is truer than ever. 
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 8 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place about four or five years after the end of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” It also happens shortly after the scene I wrote for Day 3 of the Promptober 2018 challenge, [“Demonstration,” AKA Chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596607/chapters/48900974) here, but it can be read on its own.

Logan once told himself he would wait forever for another chance with Veronica Mars. He stands by that, even two hours after they’d agreed to meet at a charming little Italian restaurant in Metropolis. It hasn’t been twelve hours since the aircraft carrier he spent the last six months on docked at the naval base in Norfolk, Virginia, but he didn’t want to wait to see her. The fact that he is now waiting to see her is not lost on him.

“Look! It’s Superman!”

The excited shout from one of the restaurant patrons has Logan turning. Just outside the restaurant, the Man of Steel is touching down, a small blond woman in his arms. Everyone inside the restaurant and on the street outside is staring, but Logan’s probably the only one whose eyes are fixed on the woman instead of her large companion.

Said companion leans down—and the guy is like six foot four, so it’s a long way down—to peck the blond ont he cheek. He says something that makes her laugh, then his eyes shift through the glass to unerringly meet Logan’s. Superman nods once, then launches himself into the air.

Veronica turns back toward the restaurant and sees Logan standing by the bar, his glass of Coke long forgotten. Her whole face lights up, and Logan pats himself on the back for his patience. She is well worth it.

She makes her way over and immediately throws herself into his arms in a hug. Everyone has been staring at her since Superman left, but she doesn’t seem to notice it. He’s got all her attention, and realizing this makes every bit of his weariness ebb away.

“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting,” she says. “I crashed my car into one of Luthor’s murder bots, and I couldn’t get a cab. I had to call a friend to give me a lift.”

Logan smirks. “That’s some taxi service you’ve got. Are you okay, though?” He eyes a bruise on her cheek.

“Yeah. Couple of bumps and bruises, but that’s par for the course. I wasn’t needed, but the bot landed right in front of me, so what’s a girl to do but run it over?”

Logan rolls his eyes. “And I thought your life was weird and dangerous when we were teenagers.”

She grimaces. “Yeah, things are way crazier now.” She sobers. “Do you still want to do this?”

He frowns. “Do what?”

She gestures to indicate the restaurant. “Date me. We could just call this a dinner between friends, if you like.”

“Bobcat, I’ve waited years to date you again. And I do read the news. I know who you work with. You think the occasional megalomaniac or alien invasion is gonna scare me away?”

She chews at her bottom lip. “I just wanted to give you an out. No one at the League has a great track record with relationships.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Even Superman?”

She groans. “Ohmigod, he’s one of the worst. Possibly the only ones who are worse than him are Green Lantern and Batman. I don’t know why those guys always end up with either danger magnets or supervillains.” She tilts her head. “Though considering your job, I don’t know if I’ve got any room to talk.”

“I’ll say the same.” He smirks. “But, for the record, I do absolutely still want to date you.”

She groans and covers her face with her hands. “Why are you being so nice when I’ve kept you waiting for two hours?”

“What’s a couple of hours? I’ve been waiting to take you on a date for eight years.”

Blue eyes widen, then soften. “Logan…” She trails off, licks her lips. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles gently. “Then don’t say anything. Let’s grab a table, and you can show me if you can still put away manicotti like the world’s about to end and it might be your last meal.”

She smirks. “Oh, so you mean like any given Tuesday?”

He shakes his head. “You’re one of a kind, Veronica Mars. Let’s get you fed.”

“You do still know the most direct route to my heart,” she says, eyes comically wide, face delighted.

He chuckles and raises his hand at the hostess, who scrambles to attend them. She wasn’t half this accommodating before Veronica made her big entrance, so he supposes there are some perks to dating a member of the Justice League.

They are seated at one of the best tables in the house. Logan takes a moment to just stare at her. The soft, warm lighting of the restaurant make her look positively golden. She rolls her eyes then crosses them and sticks out her tongue.

_Yes_, he thinks, smiling. _Definitely worth the wait_.


	7. Shadow (or, When the Bat's Away, V Will Play)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman is out of commission, so Veronica dons her mask and cape and helps Robin patrol Gotham. 
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 9 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you need to know: Veronica might be famous as an investigator and security consultant, but she also sometimes participates in Gotham's nightlife as a masked vigilante. Mac joins the crusade as their person on coms and eye in the sky, Umbra.

The vigilante known as Vesper prowls the rooftops of Gotham, Robin at her side. It's their third night out as a duo. They stick to the shadows whenever possible, occasionally stepping into the dim halos of streetlights to interrupt muggings and other attacks. The Bat is out of commission, having broken his leg during an encounter with Killer Croc.

“Bat signal’s lit up,” says Umbra, their tech-and-tactics partner and one of Veronica’s oldest friends.

“We see it,” Vesper says. As always, she’s a little bemused by the way the vocal modulator in her armor deepens her voice and adds a rasp to it. The faint Gotham accent she adopts while masked is automatic by now. “ETA in ten.”

She and Robin pull out their grappling guns and make their way toward the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department’s HQ.

“Let Robin take point on this,” Batman rumbles over the coms as they swing between buildings. “Gordon’s never met Vesper, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Vesper knows why he insists on this. Veronica Mars, famed private investigator, works closely with the GCPD and with Commissioner James Gordon in particular. But she also knows Robin isn’t seasoned enough to deal with the cops solo; he’s only been allowed in the field for three months, after all.

“No can do, B,” she says. “I’m not leaving Robin on his own while your leg heals up.”

“It’s only for a couple of weeks,” Batman grumbles.

“Alfie says you’re to stay off it for eight,” Robin reminds him.

“No names on coms,” Batman barks out.

“Sorry,” Robin replies, but he grins at Veronica, and she knows that behind the white lenses of his domino mask, he’s rolling his eyes. “Agent A says you’re benched for eight weeks, Batman.”

Veronica grins back, though she knows he can’t see it since her mask covers her whole face. “The kid’s right, B. It’s why I’m here, after all. So we do this my way.”

“Please try not to compromise your identity by cracking jokes at Gordon,” Batman says, and the pain in his voice has nothing to do with his broken leg.

“Telling her not to snark is kind of like telling her not to breathe,” Umbra comments. “Gordon’s facing east if you wanna do the shadow-loving ninja thing B does.”

“Sure. Why not? It could be fun. Coming in from the west, then.”

Vesper and Robin land on the rooftop on silent feet. She takes a moment to observe the commissioner, who is sipping coffee from a mug she recognizes as one his daughter gave him for Father’s Day. She waits a beat before speaking. “Commissioner.”

He chokes, whirls to face her, coffee sloshing so he lets out a curse.

“Smooth, V, really smooth.” Umbra is smirking. Vesper can tell, even over the coms.

She pulls a tissue out of her utility belt and offers it to Gordon. “Sorry,” she says.

He sighs. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Although you’re not who I was expecting.”

“Aww, it’s fine, commish. You were expecting the Bat, after all.” Dick does a handstand on the rooftop railing. Veronica rolls her eyes. “Vesper’s covering for him tonight, though.”

“I can see that,” the commissioner says, frowning. “May I ask what happened to Batman?”

“Out of town,” Veronica says, making sure to deepen the Gothamite accent just a tad. “Consulting on a case.”

“Oh.” Gordon frowns. “I wasn’t aware he worked outside of Gotham.”

“Sometimes.” She shrugs dismissively, knowing Batman would have her hide for sharing too much information.

Fortunately, Gordon takes the hint and changes the topic. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Vesper. Mostly from the criminals you’ve helped apprehend. They seem… strangely fond of you.”

She smirks, though he can’t see it. “Despite the similarity in our outfit colors and a shared fondness for ass kicking, the mysterious fearmongering thing is Batman’s schtick, not mine.”

Dick snorts. “The Bat’s gonna get you for that, Ves.”

“I will,” Batman promises via the coms.

“He can try,” Vesper says, more in response to Batman than to Robin. “But he knows I’m right, and he also knows I am fully prepared to spray paint his bat suits in neon colors if he tries to mess with me.”

Gordon, having just taken a sip of his coffee, chokes again. Bruce is cursing in her ear, while Dick snickers. Veronica ignores all of that. “So what have you got for us, commissioner? A new case?”

He pauses. “I’m not sure how closely you work with Batman on the, uh, investigatory side of things—”

“She does,” Robin pipes in, making Batman growl. “Sometimes she helps him see the things he missed.”

Gordon’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s impressive.”

She shrugs. “The Bat’s not always great about factoring the emotional angles into an investigation.”

The older man nods. “I can see how that might be the case. Well, it turns out I could use a consult.”

He holds out a case file. Veronica itches to open it and start poring over the details of whatever crime he needs help with, but she knows Batman’s MO well enough. So she takes it, tucks it into a hidden pocket in her cape.

“I’ll be in touch,” she says.

She takes a moment to consider her exit strategy. She could steal a page from Batman’s playbook and do the ninja disappearing thing into the shadows. But she glances ad Robin, all pent up energy and springiness. And smiles.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Commissioner,” she tells him.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

She nods, then leaps up onto the railing. “Robin,” she says, letting laughter and challenge warm her voice even with the modulator. “Catch me if you can.” With a jaunty salute for the commissioner, she does a backflip off the side of the building.

“Oh, it’s on! Ready or not, here I come!”

Laughing, the pair scampers across the rooftops, Umbra’s chuckles and Batman’s threats in their ears.


	8. I Almost Forgot (or, Conner Larkin Is Starstruck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old acquaintance sees Veronica Mars hobnobbing with the rich, famous, and heroic at a gala in Washington DC.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 10 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place a few years after the end of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” I’m not sure it’s going to make it into my crossover ‘verse canon at this point as it’s just a scene I thought of then couldn’t seem to get out of my head. We shall see, I guess. My idea is eventually she stops being a JL operative and takes up a role as the boss for civilian contractors and as the primary liaison instead of running missions.

A-list action star Connor Larkin swirls his scotch idly as his gaze travels over the crowd in front of him. It is very obviously not his scene—he’s much more familiar with the too-wide smiles and airbrushed faces at Hollywood parties or even the cheerful brashness of New Yorkers than he is with the charged doublespeak and genteel snobbery of the Washington DC political set—but it makes for interesting character studies.

He recognizes the power players, of course. Both the president and the vice president of the United States are present; it’s practically unheard of except on the election trail, but given that the new ambassador isn’t just a princess of a long-lost island paradise but also a founding member of the Justice League, this doesn’t really come as a surprise.

He also recognizes some of the movers and shakers among the obscenely rich. There are a handful of billionaire playboys—again no surprise, considering said princess is from a country where all the citizens are gorgeous women, each of whom know dozens of ways to kill a man without breaking a sweat.

Most famous among this group are Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne, both of whom grace the tabloids at least as frequently as Connor does—possibly more, considering they have reputations for living large and have both enjoyed the title of People’s Sexiest Man Alive. If Tony Stark were here, it would complete the trifecta of America’s richest, handsomest, and most eligible, but Iron Man must be off with the Avengers tonight.

Connor notices both Queen and Wayne are seated at the same table fairly near the center, with a petite blonde woman between them. The three of them appear to be having a debate of some kind—or rather, the two men appear to be debating, while the blonde between them plays referee.

Suddenly, as if realizing she is being watched, the blonde looks in his direction, and Connor is startled to find she looks familiar. She smirks, and Connor suddenly remembers where he knows her from, remembers a party hosted by the son of his asshole of a co-star.

He watches as she excuses herself from the men, who both stand as she gets up, only to resume their discussion when she heads in his direction.

He is frank in his appreciation of her. She is wearing a gown the color of midnight that seems to whisper secrets as she walks. Her makeup is simple, almost natural, but with enough gloss that she would look right at home on any red carpet, much less this rather staid gala.

She walks up to the bar he is leaning against, tilts her head and smiles at the bartender. “Can I get something pink and fruity, please? The pinker, the better.”

The bartender grins and gets to work. “You got it.”

She turns to Connor and drawls, “Connor Larkin.”

He has spent the last ninety seconds frantically scanning his mental files, trying to remember her name. “Ah, Monica? Logan Echolls’s teenage detective girlfriend?”

She purses her lips, but her eyes are laughing at him. “Close, but no cigar. It’s Veronica, Veronica Mars. However, I haven’t been a teenager in a very long time, and Logan and I are just friends these days.”

Connor raises his glass. “Good to see you again, and Logan and I were never really that close, so I’ll admit I almost forgot the circumstances of our meeting.”

She grimaces. “Probably a good thing. That night was a bit of a disaster.”

He purses his lips. “Poker night, right? It’s all coming back to me now.”

She reaches for the drink the bartender has set at her elbow, offering the guy a smile and her thanks. “Do you try to charm all the ladies with Celine Dion song lyrics?”

Connor’s gaze takes her in, from the golden blonde curls to her stilettoed feet. He smiles. “Only the hot ones. If Logan doesn’t know what he’s missing by staying in your friend zone, the man isn’t as smart as I thought he was.”

She laughs. “I did like you, both times I met you.”

He grins back. “Well if the third time’s the charm, then I hope you’re in love with me by the time we leave here tonight.”

“You know, before I met you, Logan told me your abs were drawn on.”

“The little shit! They are not! Just ask my bitch of a Crossfit trainer.”

She smirks. “Well, I’m sure your date will appreciate learning how real they are.”

Connor frowns. “How do you know I have a date tonight?”

“Your name isn’t on the invite list, so I’m assuming you’re one of the people laying claim to the name ‘and guest’ tonight. There are only a few, as guests were encouraged to name their plus ones when they RSVPed.”

“It’s true, but—”

Before Connor can ask how she knows who is on the invite list, he is startled to see Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne have joined them. He’s surprised by the men’s silent approach and a little overwhelmed by how large they are in real life. Not that he’s scrawny, but both men look like they’d be good in a brawl. He imagines the small blonde beside him feels positively dwarfed by them, Wayne in particular.

“Brucie, Ollie.” Veronica greets them without a blink of the eye or any surprise at heir sudden appearance. She toasts them with her drink. “Meet Connor Larkin, an old acquaintance of mine. Connor, Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne.” The men nod at each other, then the two billionaires turn their attention back toward the tiny blonde beside Connor.

“What the hell are you drinking, Nic?” Oliver asks her, a pained expression on his face as he eyes her glass.

“Dunno,” she replies cheerfully. “I asked for something pink and fruity.” She takes another sip. “I can tell you that this drink is most assuredly both pink and fruity.”

“Veronica, you’re not sixteen.”

“Oliver,” Veronica mimics his tone exactly, and Connor is amused by how it makes the billionaire wince, “you’re not the alcohol police.”

“Somebody should be. Don’t know how you can drink that crap,” Bruce says jovially. His eyes flick over the bottles displayed on the shelf behind the bar. To the bartender, he says, “I’ll take a Loch Niven 25, neat, please.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wayne,” the bartender replies.

“I’ll have the same,” Oliver says.

“So you criticize my drink without even tasting it, and then you copy his?” Veronica scoffs. “Some connoisseur you are, Mr. Nightclub Owner. At least I’ve got originality going for me.”

In response, Oliver swipes the glass out of her hand, takes a sip, then grimaces. “Even my baby sister wouldn’t drink this crap.”

“I like it. And, hey, I got the bartender to mix something new for me instead of just copying my friend’s drink.”

“Loch Niven is a decent scotch, and the 25 is a good year. Brucie has impeccable taste in alcohol. It’s one of his few redeeming qualities.”

“It is. I do.” Bruce nods, grinning. Then he leers at Veronica. “And I have many redeeming qualities.”

Oliver opens his mouth to retort, but Veronica cuts in with a glance that instantly shuts the billionaire up. “You know, I met Collin Niven once. He was house sitting for Nicholas Cage. He was really sweet. I was sorry when I sorta broke up his potential engagement before he could propose.”

Oliver smiles. “Of course you did.”

Bruce pats her on the head. “Of course you were.”

“So why are you guys hanging at the bar instead of preying on some unsuspecting heiress or debutante like the bad boy billionaires you’re supposed to be? There’s quite a few of them out there.” Veronica gestures toward the rest of the room.

“Because we’re here, checking on you,” Oliver says mildly.

“Well, as you can see I’m catching up with an old acquaintance and well-provisioned, so shoo! Flirt like the pretty boys you know you are. Plus points if you can use that line from Hamilton!”

“‘If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it’?” Oliver smirks. “Like anyone would believe we’ve been to war.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “No, Brue-boo here would never pull it off. I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘I’m a trust fund baby, you can trust me!’” She laughs.

Bruce takes a sip of his scotch. “We’re your dates. It’s not nice to flirt with women other than the ones you come to an event with.” Connor notes idly that the other man sounds like he’s quoting someone.

“Is that Etiquette According to Alfred 101?” Oliver laughs.

The tiny blond between them sighs heavily, holds up a finger and starts ticking off points as she lectures them. “Okay, one, you are not my dates. You are pseudo-dates at best because I wanted to be here to check up on our guys without playing helicopter boss. Two, neither you nor I are nice people, although the jury is still out on Ollie here. Three, you’re known for leaving events with more women than you arrived with, you manwhore.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t marry you in a heartbeat if you would have me.”

“You say that like I don’t know you’d only be marrying me because your kids and your butler all like me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad reason.”

“You say that like it’s a good one.”

“Tell the truth, Brucie, baby. You hit on one of the Amazons and got shot down, didn’t you?”

The billionaire drains his glass and gestures for the bartender to refill it. “Shut up.”

Veronica and Oliver burst out laughing. “So now you need me to stroke your ego?” Veronica asks, elbowing Oliver in the gut when he accuses Bruce of being lame.

“Yes, I’m in desperate need of comfort.”

“We can stop for ice cream on the way back to Gotham. Also, you know Diana would castrate you if you messed around with one of her shield sisters, so I don’t even know why you’d bother flirting.”

Bruce tries to pout and glare simultaneously and just ends up looking petulantly confused. “Shut up, or I’ll ditch you.”

“That’s fine.” Veronica smiles at him beatifically. “I’ll just go home with Ollie.”

“You know, Nic actually arrived with me tonight,” Oliver observes.

“She’s coming home with me,” Bruce growls.

“She doesn’t have to.”

“Yes, she does. She promised my kid pancakes for breakfast.”

“Isn’t that what you have a butler for?”

“She promised him pancakes too.”

“I brought a limo.”

“I brought a Lambo.”

“I brought a fist I can plant in both your faces,” Veronica interrupts their squabbling, not even bothering to look at them as she sips from her drink. “And Brue, your kid will have his pancakes tomorrow regardless of who I catch a ride with tonight.”

They are instantly repentant. “Sorry, Veronica,” they chorus.

“Don’t listen to these idiots,” Veronica tells Connor, rolling her eyes. “Not only do they like to engage in dick measuring contests every chance they get, but they’ve also taken it into their heads to act like the big brothers I never had or wanted. Never mind that Ollie here actually has a little sister who might benefit from his overbearing ways and Bruce has a gaggle of kids who would better appreciate his mother hen tendencies.”

Connor chokes a little at the thought of Bruce Wayne, known far and wide for his unabashed womanizing and his entitled asshole attitude, being a mother hen.

“My sister threatened to shoot me the next time I showed any signs of being ‘overbearing,’” Oliver mutters.

“And what makes you think I won’t?”

“Also, you gave her information—with pictures, I might add—to blackmail me with if I even tried.”

“Sisters before misters, yo!”

“What do you do?” Connor asks her. “And, um, congratulations on your business venture, I guess? I hadn’t heard.”

“No reason to,” she murmurs. “I haven’t seen you in, what? Eleven, twelve years?”

Connor nods. “Sounds about right.”

Veronica smiles. “I’m still an investigator. I also consult on security and other related matters. One of my clients supplied extra people and logistics for this shindig.” She waves to indicate the embassy.

Oliver smirks. “That’s an awfully modest description of what you do, Nic.” He leans forward and tells Connor, “You’re looking at the person in charge of the Justice League’s civilian contractors. She’s also the League’s primary liaison with governmental and non-governmental agencies.”

Connor’s eyes widen. “Wow.”

Veronica grimaces. “More like I’m the nanny for the capes and cowls brigade. It sounds cooler than it is.”

Bruce Wayne looks thoughtful. He also looks like being thoughtful physically pains him. “You knew Nica twelve years ago?” Connor nods, and Bruce turns to Veronica. “Twelve years ago, you would’ve been in high school.”

“Mmmhmm. Oh, look! Bruce can math!”

“High school? Really?” Now Oliver looks curious as well. “Now this I want to hear about. Nic has only ever introduced us to a couple of people from her misspent youth, and she’s sworn them to silence.”

“Unless you count her dad, and he’s always too suspicious of us to share any fun stories.” Bruce pouts.

“Trust me, you don’t want to hear about Neptune, California,” Veronica says. “It’s basically the missing tenth circle in Dante’s Inferno.”

“We already know about the Lilly Kane case,” Bruce says, waving a hand dismissively. “She was some sort of cousin on my mother’s side, after all. But I don’t think you ever mentioned knowing Larkin here.”

“We met on a theft case at the Echolls estate. I told you I used to help my dad out when he was just getting the business started. Plus, I took a few cases from classmates, earned a little cash on the side. I agreed to find some stolen poker money in exchange for a buy in at the next game.”

“You figured out who stole the money then wiped the floor with me and the rest of the guys at that poker game,” Connor says, shaking his head. The details of their last meeting had come to him while the billionaires were bickering. “You walked away with five grand.”

“Four, minus the buy in. It wasn’t hard. You weren’t very good.”

“Echolls as in Logan Echolls?” Oliver asks. Connor is slightly creeped out by the shit eating smile on the blond billionaire’s face.

“Yeah, he was the one guy who posed any challenge that night,” Veronica says. She is glaring at Oliver, who only grins back, but Connor isn’t sure why.

“You played poker with Veronica Mars?” Bruce chuckles, distracting them. “Brave man.”

“She pretty much played us,” Connor admits sheepishly. “I didn’t know any better, having just met her. Although the rest of the guys were her friends—”

“Not really,” Veronica mumbles.

“—And they seemed pretty surprised.”

Oliver laughs. “I see you started your card sharking young.”

“It’s a gift.”

“More like a curse you unleash on the unsuspecting.” Connor turns his head to see who is speaking and nearly drops his drink when he sees the Man of Steel hovering a couple of feet off the ground, his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted in amusement. “Veronica Mars is one of only a handful of people who has successfully bluffed the Batman.”

“You really don’t need to spread that story around just because you suck and can’t bluff your way out of a wet paper bag, Boy Scout,” Veronica snarks. Connor is awed by how unawed she is by the proximity of the most powerful man on the planet.

“You took all my money and I still owe you at least three unspecified favors from the last couple of times we played,” Superman retorts. His eyebrows are furrowed but his lips are twitching. “I think I’m allowed a few sour grapes.”

“A few?” She raises her eyebrows. “Kal, all you do is whine, whine, whine anytime the subject of poker comes up, ya big baby.”

Superman gives up the attempt to frown and grins instead, landing on the ground so he can nudge between Oliver and Bruce, whom he barely stops to nod to, and kiss Veronica’s cheek. She gives him a hug that leaves him smiling broadly. “Bruce. Oliver. How are you doing, Veronica? When will you be at the Watchtower next?” He pouts. “Nobody bakes me cookies, snickerdoodles or otherwise, when you’re not there.”

“I’m doing good. Ah, this is Connor Larkin.”

“I recognize you,” Superman says, offering an awestruck Connor his hand to shake. “My cousin really likes your movies.”

Veronica giggles. “She really likes his abs too,” she mock-whispers to the two billionaires.

Oliver grins. “Supergirl is a Connor Larkin fan? Does she keep a poster on her bedroom wall?”

Superman frowns. “Are you sure you’re talking about Supergirl?”

“Do you have any other cousins who’ve crashed on Earth in the year since I left? Hey, how’s she doing? She told me she started a new job a couple weeks back, but I haven’t had time to catch up with her, though I’ll see her next week. And I’m on-call for the Watchtower for the next month, but don’t have anything scheduled.”

Still frowning, Superman says, “She seems happy. Busy. We don’t exactly see eye to eye with the folks she works with, but she knows her own mind. And likes to remind me who changed whose diapers.”

Everyone but Connor laughs at this comment. “Sorry, inside joke,” Veronica tells him. He gets the impression she has a lot of inside jokes with the three other men present. Although possibly not together. He has no idea what Queen and Wayne would have in common with the Justice League.

“Anyway, you should give her a call, or I’m sure she’d love to come visit. I’m sure if you mentioned knowing Connor Larkin, she’d bug you for an introduction.”

“I would be honored to meet her,” Connor says, and he has to put a lot of effort into making sure he doesn’t stutter.

“Will you be in LA next week?” Veronica asks. She smiles when he nods and tells her he should be. “I’m sure we can manage something. She’s doing a flyover event with the navy jets out of San Diego for Veterans Day, if you’d like to go see that.”

Connor grins. “I would love to.” Truth be told, his publicist would murder him if he doesn’t snatch up this opportunity.

“Cool. I’ll be in the area for a long overdue visit with my dad, and Logan’s gonna be there too, we’ve got plans to catch up over ice cream. I promised to treat her to Amy’s, which serves the best mint chocolate chip ice cream on the entire West Coast.” She glares at Superman. “Don’t tell Diana, though. You know how she gets once ice cream is involved.”

Superman grins. “I won’t, but if you bake her cookies and don’t make any for me, I will be seriously disappointed. So much so I might feel the need to complain about your plans to a fellow League member.”

“Extortion, Kal? I don’t know if I should be proud or ashamed of you.”

“Seeing as you’re the one who corrupted me, I would say the former.”

“You’d have to come to California for cookies, unless I know someone headed your way who wouldn’t mind playing delivery boy. I don’t know that the League would approve the unofficial use of teleporters into the Hall or Tower for cookie delivery purposes.”

“I’d be happy to pick them up if you bake them.”

“You’d fly to the West Coast from Metropolis just for cookies?”

“I used to go to the Watchtower on my off days for your cookies. That wasn’t even on the planet.”

“Huh. Point.”

He tilts his head as if listening to something, but Connor doesn’t hear anything. “If you’ll excuse me, Veronica, gentlemen, I’ve got to—”

“Schmooze,” Veronica finishes for him with a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Diana told me she would make you play politics tonight. Unless there’s a disaster somewhere in need of a flying alien?”

Said flying alien grimaces and fidgets a bit. “No, she wants me to glad-hand with a bunch of DC politicians and military folk.” He sighs. “She coerced me with the blackmail you provided.” Superman frowns at her, looking like a disapproving kindergarten teacher.

Veronica smirks and makes shooing gestures with her free hand as she downs the rest of her drink. “Go work the room, Boy Scout. I’m going to see if there isn’t anything to eat at this joint.”

“I hate when you and Batman call me that,” Superman says.

“Can’t hate the truth, hero. Make sure you flex your pecs for some senators’ wives.”

“I believe dinner will be served shortly,” Bruce says after Superman floats away. “We should probably head over to our seats. I want to hear about this blackmail you have on the Man of Steel.”

She shrugs. “Truth or dare is a dangerous game when you play it with me. After all, I learned it from your cousin.”

Bruce smirks. “Don’t we know it. So you got him to confess to something he wouldn’t want the public to know?”

Veronica shakes her head. “I dared him to sing that song from Space Jam, ‘I Believe I Can Fly,’ after they installed that karaoke in the Tower rec room. I provided Diana with video evidence.”

“Veronica, light of my life, how much do I need to pay to get my hands on a copy?” Bruce is grinning at her delightedly. “I’ll write you a blank check.”

“You know cash isn’t a bribe you can use on me, Brucie baby.” She laughs when he pouts.

“We should head back. I see servers bringing out trays, and we would hate for you to miss so much as an amuse-bouche,” Oliver says, also offering her his arm. He smirks at Connor. “Nic here gets pretty savage when left unfed for too long.”

“Food! Finally!” Veronica sets her now-empty glass on the bar and all but bounces up and down. She does clap her hands before taking both of their proffered arms.

Connor is surprised to find she seems more excited about the prospect of dinner than being escorted by two of the country’s most eligible bachelors or being hugged by the most powerful man in the world.

“I guess I’d better find my date,” he says reluctantly.

“It was good to see you, Connor,” she says with a smile. “I’ll give you a call a day or two before Veterans Day to see if you’re free. You can either join us in San Diego or we can fly up to you in LA.”

With that parting shot, she allows her “pseudo-dates” to escort her back to their table. Connor is reminded of a younger Judy Garland as Dorothy, skipping down the yellow brick road with a friend on each arm.

_I can’t believe I almost didn’t remember I knew her,_ he thinks, recalling that Veronica Mars was famous for having survived being held hostage by terrorists for nearly two years alongside Bruce Wayne. He sighs, scans the crowd for his date. _Well, he thinks, after tonight, I doubt I could ever forget her again._


	9. Bowl (or, Dick Grayson Has Dessert for Dinner)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson, newly orphaned ward to billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, hates living at Wayne Manor. Veronica tries to cheer him up by introducing him to the dessert-for-dinner tradition.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 12 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, which takes place a little over a year after the events of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham,” Bruce Wayne has recently taken on guardianship of Dick Grayson (who will become Robin) after watching the boy’s parents, world-famous trapeze artists, fall to their deaths after a murderer tampers with their cables at the circus they perform in.

Richard “Dick” Grayson, the last remaining member of the circus act that had been the Flying Graysons, creeps through the dimly lit halls of Wayne Manor. His new guardian, billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, is out attending some high society function, and the butler, Alfred, is driving him. Bruce’s friend Veronica, whom Dick met just this afternoon, is somewhere around the manor, but honestly the house is so large a handful of people could live here for weeks without running into each other.

Dick turns into the kitchen, hoping to grab something from the refrigerator before retreating into his room. It’s not that Bruce, Alfred, Veronica, and the other girl who comes around a lot, Mac, aren’t perfectly nice. It’s just that he spent his whole life in a loud, tightly knit family group at the circus, where all the adults pitched in to help take care of all the kids at one time or another, and this place, with its endless corridors, its heavy weight of art and history, its occupants whose shoulders are stiff with secrets—all of it is as alien to him as his own life must be to them.

As Dick rounds a corner, he hears soft music coming from the kitchen at the end of the corridor. A woman—most likely Veronica—is singing along to it. Her voice is beautiful; it’s a bright, light soprano, a little like a Disney princess in those movies Dick pretends not to love.

The part of Dick that lives in nightmare flashbacks of bodies flying through the air, only to fall and be broken upon the ground below, the part of him that understands that thrice-checked cables do not snap without some sort of tampering, wants to retreat. But the part of him that misses the happier days before his world crashed down around him with the sound of two bodies falling amid a circus full of screams, the part that misses the songs and the smiles and the fun he used to have in his life—that part of him keeps him inching forward. And his stomach keeps him going, rumbling a protest at its emptiness.

“Baby, you’re a firework! Come on, show ‘em what you’re worth!” Veronica sings along to the radio, using an ice cream scoop as a microphone. On the counter are two bowls, each containing a small tower of ice cream in different flavors, drizzled liberally with chocolate sauce, and topped with a maraschino cherry. “Make ‘em go ‘oh, oh oh!’ as you shoot across the sky-y-y!”

Dick stops and stares, mesmerized by the simple joy that radiates from the small blond woman as she dances around the kitchen while dressed in shorts and a T-shirt that reads “food before dudes” in all caps, with her feet in bright purple fuzzy unicorn slippers. He knows she is a friend of teenage sorceress Zatanna Zatara’s, and he wonders if, like the other girl, this one is made of magic too. Just then, Veronica turns and catches sight of him. For a moment his heart stops, thinking his presence has broken the spell of happiness that is the first bit of light he’s seen in this dreary gadjo mansion since his arrival two weeks ago.

But then Veronica smiles. “Do you know the song?” she asks, turns the dial up on the radio, then dances around the kitchen island over to where Dick is standing. She hooks a casual arm around him, and he’s tall enough (or she’s short enough) that she’s only got a few inches on him, even though she’s a grown woman and he’s just turned twelve.

“You don’t have to feel like a waste of space—you’re original, cannot be replaced,” she sings, then holds out the ice cream scoop to Dick, eyebrows raised. He just shakes his head mutely, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine, but you’re singing the chorus with me,” she says, before singing the rest of the verse.

Half a minute later, she’s tugging him in so they can share her prop as she starts to belt out the pre-chorus. Dick knows the song; it’s all the girls at the circus would sing last year, so he joins in. “You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine,” he sings when Veronica tilts the ice cream scoop his way.

He pushes it back toward her, and she sings the next part. Then she drops the scoop into his hand, and spins away, singing the chorus without the benefit of her “microphone.” Dick finds himself grinning as he holds the ice cream scoop to his mouth and sings along. “Cause baby you’re a firework, come on, show ‘em what you’re worth!”

Two minutes later, the song is over, they are both breathless from dancing and twirling around the kitchen like loons, their grins are wide as the horizon over Gotham Bay, and Veronica has plopped a bowl in front of Dick. “Alfie’s gone, so it’s dessert for dinner night!” she announces. She leans over conspiratorially. “You must never tell him about this tradition.”

Dick snorts. “You say that like he won’t know exactly what you fed me.”Still, he digs into the ice cream with enthusiasm.

She beams. “Too true, too true! But we’ve got a strict ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy when it comes to ‘Miss Veronica’s regrettably juvenile eating habits,’” she quotes in an exaggerated British accent. “And Bruce knows better than to mess with either of us when the man likes his food in liquid form because ‘it’s more efficient,’ the heathen.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “His protein drinks are totally gross.”

Veronica nods gravely. “They are completely disgusting.”

They grin at each other in mutual dis-appreciation of horrible health drinks.

“So…” Dick says, then stops and bites his lip shyly. When Veronica’s expression remains open, patient, he gathers up his gumption (and his fandom) and blurts out, “Is it true I haven’t met you before because you were working with Superman?”

Veronica looks surprised for a moment, then smiles. “Yeah, we’re about ready to wrap up a case,” she says, “but don’t tell anyone, okay? The people we’re investigating know I’m on the case, but they don’t know Superman’s my backup, or that he’s the one who asked me to take a look at them in the first place.”

Dick nods his head eagerly. “Do you think I could…”

She smiles knowingly. “Meet Big Blue? I don’t see why not. He comes to visit sometimes.”

The boy’s eyes grow large. “Here? Really?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the P. “How about I invite him over after we close the case, hmm?”

“That would be awesome! Him and the Bat are my favorite heroes!”

“You like the Bat too? People’re still debating whether the guy even exists.” She tilts her head, inviting him to share.

“Yeah, the Bat is totally asterous. And there’s no way that many people would report sightings of him if he didn’t exist. There’s whole forums on the internet! Plus I don’t think all those criminals would be afraid of some ghostie or an urban legend.”

“Well, you know, ‘criminals are a suspicious and cowardly lot,’” Veronica says, her voice deepening to a kittenish growl. She sounds like she’s quoting someone, but Dick doesn’t recognize the reference.

He shrugs. “All I know is, Batman and Superman are the best.” He lifts up his bowl and tilts it to drink the melted cream from the lip.

Veronica grins. “You want some more?” When the boy shakes his head, she grabs his bowl, rinses it and her own, then puts it in the dishwasher. “All right,” she says. “It’s just the two of us tonight, no stuffy Wayne people, but also no superheroes. So what do you wanna do? Be forewarned: if you are going to suggest we watch a movie in the media room, I will do my utmost to convince you to pick the South Park movie or The Last Unicorn.”

He grins back. “I’m good with either of those.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. You want popcorn?”

“Do elephants poop shit mountains?”

Veronica laughs. “Don’t let Alfred or Bruce—or Superman, for that matter—hear you using that kind of language. And don’t tell anyone about this hiding space.” She disappears, and Dick crawls onto the counter to see her rummaging under the sink. She pulls out a large pink toolbox, then opens it to reveal a row of air tight containers. She points at each, going from left to right. “Gummy Bears, Twizzlers, Pop Tarts, microwave popcorn. Do not open within view of Alfred or Bruce. You, me, and Mac are the only people who know about this. Mac and I keep it stocked, but if you empty us out you better text one of us to resupply or there will be hell to pay. Got it?”

Dick giggles. “Got it!”

She grabs the container with the microwave popcorn, pulls out a pack, rips it out of the plastic container and pops the bag into the microwave. Three minutes later, she is dumping the popcorn into a bowl and tossing the bag into the bin. “Let’s go, kid. I’m in the mood for unicorns tonight.”


	10. Dead End (or, Try to Mug Batman's Bestie and See Where That Gets You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dead-end alley in the most crime-ridden city in the country. Four thugs on her heels. Not a problem when you were trained by the Batman.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 13 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet takes place a few months after the events of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” Veronica has moved to Gotham City and enrolled as a student at Gotham University, while moonlighting as a vigilante at night and as a PI consultant to the Gotham City Police Department on her off hours.

_Caught a tail. Will deal with them before coming to work._

Batman frowns when he sees Veronica’s text message. He knows the blond PI is well able to defend herself, having trained her himself, but he is also intimately acquainted with her tendency to poke at rabid bears just because she can. He activates the tracker on her mobile and fires up the prototype plane he’s been working on for the past few months. He might as well take the opportunity to test the stealth functions as well as the vertical takeoff and landing in a real-life scenario.

Three minutes later, he lands the plane on a convenient rooftop, then uses the glider built into his cape to find a position above the dead-end alley where Veronica’s tracker signal has stopped moving.

“Look, boys, I know you all think you’ve got the advantage here, being big, hulking brutes and all, but you’d be wrong.”

“How do you figure, blondie?” asks the guy at the head of the pack (and it really is a pack; four men built like linebackers have cornered Veronica at the end of the alley).

“Would it be too cheesy to quote _The Matrix_ and say ‘I know kung fu’?” She says the last bit in a deepened, Keanu-esque voice.

“Funny, girlie, real funny. Now hand over your bag, your watch, that pretty sparkly bauble at your neck, and everything else you’ve got on you.”

“I’d really rather not. The bauble, in particular, has some sentimental value for me.”

“We’re not messing around here, blondie! We will eff you up!”

“Oh please, how bad can you be if you can’t even say the word?”

Batman resists the urge to sigh at the snark.

“Tough words from a little girl,” one of the thugs sneers, then reaches over to grab Veronica’s wrist. But she has him on the ground in the next second. The three other guys gape at her, and she adopts an exaggerated kung fu pose, still channeling Neo, and makes a “come on” gesture with her fingers.

The remaining thugs rush forward. Suddenly the blond woman has become a whirlwind, kicking and punching, hitting pressure points. A scant couple of minutes later, the men are piled in an unconscious heap on the dank, dirty ground of the alley.

“B,” she says, and he allows himself the tiniest bit of pride that she has realized that he is watching from the shadows above. “What are you doing here?”

He stays silent. Watches as she rolls her eyes. “They’re just run-of-the-mill muggers. I’m gonna call the cops, then come in for work.”

He doesn’t move. He watches her pull her phone out, hit 9-1-1. “Hi, I’d like to report a crime. Some guys tried to mug me, but now they’re unconscious. Can someone pick them up please? I’d like to press charges.” She rattles off the address as well as her details and the details of her contact at the Gotham City Police Department. “Yes, I’ll wait. No, I don’t need you to stay on the line, but if they’re not here in under ten minutes, I’ll be calling back.”

She hangs up. Sighs. “B, go home and play with your toys.”

He smirks. “Am.”

She shoots him a speculative look. “You brought be Batplane?”

He grunts. “Don’t call it that.”

“It’s a plane. It’s shaped like a bat. Designed and used by the Gotham Bat. It’s the Batplane.”

“Hnn.”

“Oh go fly it somewhere fun and stop bothering me.”

“No.”

“Batman, don’t make me tilt my head at you.”

The Gotham vigilante considers this threat for a moment, then huffs out an exasperated breath. “Fine,” he says. “Keep your coms on.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Call for backup if you need it.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Never call me Daddy again.”

“Okay, Batsy.”

“Hnn.”

“Go before I start calling you Batsymatsy cutiepie.”

Thus threatened, the Batman slips into the shadows and makes his way over Gotham’s rooftops to where his plane is parked. Sometimes friends are dangerous to a vigilante’s dignity.


	11. Trainer (or, Batman Is a Sadist)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Batman, caring about someone is training them. For the people he cares about, this means pain. A lot of pain.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 20 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s what you need to know: Veronica’s a pretty famous private investigator; she lives in Gotham, but takes a lot of cases in Metropolis, New York, LA, and Star City. She works closely with the GCPD but also does investigation work for Superman and Batman.

Veronica Mars sits on the freezing floor of the training room in the Batcave (not that Bruce is happy with her calling it that). Her butt has gone numb from how cold the floor is, but she figures a little suffering is the sympathetic thing to do when not three feet away, the world’s strongest hero is writhing in agony.

In this moment, she deeply, deeply regrets introducing Superman to the Bat of Gotham. She’d been working with the hero for a few months when he’d asked her what she knew about the urban legend known as the Bat. She’d told him part of the truth—that she worked with the Bat on occasion, just as she sometimes worked with Superman—and the Metropolis hero had been all puppy eyes and requests for introductions.

The Bat had decided to test the hero’s mettle by stalking him to Clark Kent’s apartment, then bugging him. With an electronic device shaped like a bat. For real. Batman had pushed Superman’s buttons to see what he would do when he lost his temper, then strapped a bomb to his chest and said an innocent would die if Superman so much as touched him. Superman hadn’t, and when Veronica had gotten word of it, she’d hightailed it to Metropolis to yell at the man she’d come to think of as a brother.

Batman, suitably chastened, had made things up with the Kryptonian by helping him on cases when Veronica wasn’t available. The two had become friends, possibly even best friends, over an astonishingly short amount of time. And while for the first few months, Bruce had been content to let Superman believe he was nothing more than the Bat’s financial backer, he’d eventually trusted the Metropolis hero with the secret of his identity. And offered to help train him.

Which is why they are here, with Superman wearing a kryptonite-studded vest and all but passing out on the Batcave floor as Bruce and Veronica observe.

“That’s enough,” Veronica says finally, seeing the gray tinge of Clark’s skin. “Either you get that off him, or I will.”

Bruce complies wordlessly, freeing the Man of Steel from the killer vest and locking the thing in a vault lined with lead. “You lasted much longer than you did previously,” Bruce observes. “And you were able to defend yourself the first half-hour, although your decline seems to have accelerated after that.”

“No kidding,” Veronica hears Clark mutter. He’s still just lying on the floor, so she comes over and sits by his head, taking a towel and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Water?”

“Give me a minute,” he says, voice still thready. She does, and he eventually pulls himself up to a sitting position, and she hands him a bottle of water, which he drains. “So good. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do, after I let you get tortured for almost two hours.”

“Nothing I didn’t ask for,” Clark assures her, then grimaces. “Although right now I’m wondering exactly what possessed me to ask for it in the first place.”

“When one has identified a weakness, one must either eliminate it or train oneself to overcome or manage it,” Bruce intones.

“When one speaks using the pronoun ‘one,’ one must either cease to do so immediately or prepare oneself to have one’s ass kicked,” Veronica counters, mimicking his tone perfectly.

Clark starts to snicker, then at Bruce’s chagrined expression, lets out a full-on belly laugh.

Even pale from Kryptonite exposure, Superman is an unfairly beautiful man. Veronica observes this fact with appreciation and detachment. She also observes her friend observing the same with something a lot hotter, a lot hungrier. She grins a little. She’s already decided she is as supportive of “SuperBat” as Bruce and Clark are of “LoVe.”

She decides to give them a little push. “Are you staying for tea, Clark? You know Alfred would love to have you.”

Cornflower blue eyes dart to Bruce shyly, then back to Veronica. Superman rubs the back of his neck self-consciously, his cheeks just the slightest bit pink. “I don’t know,” he says.

“Stay,” Bruce barks out. “I wanted to talk to you about your suspicions about Lex Luthor’s latest project.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Not until after tea,” she says. “I baked snickerdoodles, Clark. I know they’re your favorite.”

Superman’s eyes light up like he’s just been told it’s Christmas morning and there are presents under the tree. “They really are,” he says warmly. “Thank you, Veronica.”

She shakes her head. “You and my friend Wallace are such suckers for them. I mean, I’ll admit they’re pretty good, but you both act like I put crack in them or something.”

“It’s a distinct possibility,” the Kryptonian says, face and voice grave.

She sticks out her tongue at him. “That joke would work if drugs actually had any effect on your system.”

“Which is why your snickerdoodle recipe must remain a secret from the rest of the world,” Clark says, grinning. “It wouldn’t do to have any random villain with an oven knowing exactly how to enslave Superman, now, would it?”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me get Bruce to bring the kryptonite back out.” She stands up, dusts her butt off, then holds a hand out.

His hand engulfs hers, and he’s obviously feeling better because he puts no weight on her whatsoever, but he still makes a show of letting her help him to his feet.

“You wouldn’t,” he whispers, kissing her on the cheek.

“How do you know?” She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows at him.

He smiles, all cheerful Kansan boy. “I’ve already suffered enough. And you know what it’s like to be on the business end of Bruce’s idea of training. Better than I do, I’m guessing.”

She grins. “That’s what the snickerdoodles are for.”

“I love you too, Veronica Mars.”

“Go shower, Clark Kent. And lose the cape when you come to tea.”

Superman’s suit is hot, but Clark Kent’s butt in jeans? Veronica figures Bruce needs a treat too. After all, Clark’s got snickerdoodles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a little background: I've been toying with the idea of going with SuperBat with my Bruce ship for this series, simply because it's subsumed my fanfic life just a little bit. Other considerations are IronBat and WonderBat. Although I am open to persuasion, as I haven't quite finalized Bruce's pairing for this series.


	12. Superstition (or, Seriously, Who Puts Veronica Mars in Charge of Teenagers?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Young Justice team meets Veronica Mars.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 21 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place several years after the end of “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” It also references previous ficlets for the "V Pranks the League" arc found in earlier chapters of this work. This crosses over with the Young Justice TV show.

“Criminals are a superstitious, cowardly lot.” Veronica rolls her eyes as Batman begins his lecture to the newly minted Young Justice team.

She catches Robin’s eye and sees him smother a giggle. Unfortunately, Superman, watching from the back, frowns at her, so she crosses her eyes at him and sees him bite down on a smile. Ha!

“Pretty sure it’s butt-whooping and not superstition that keeps the Gotham rogues scared of the Bat,” Kid Flash mutters. Veronica grins. She likes that kid.

“You would be surprised,” Batman says, as unflappable as ever.

As the Bat continues his lecture, Veronica moves toward the back of the room, where Superman is standing with Black Canary. “You and Red Tornado will have your hands full with this lot,” Veronica murmurs to the other blond crime fighter, who has agreed to be the primary mentor for the group.

Dinah—or Laurel, as she more often goes by these days—chuckles. “Don’t I know it,” she says. “But the founding members don’t have the time to do the den mothering gig, and anyone else, these guys are sure to either run roughshod over or run in terror from.” She smirks. “Can you imagine what would happen if you got Constantine doing this gig? Or Shining Knight?”

Veronica starts to snicker. “Pretty sure Constantine would have banished at least half the team to some pocket hell dimension within a week. And they’d definitely bully Sir Justin like nobody’s business.”

Superman frowns. “I don’t think they’d be too bad. They’re heroes. Or, well, heroes-in-training. Robin’s been doing this longer than several of the League have.”

Black Canary chuckles. “They’re teenagers. That still means angst, drama, and rampaging hormones. Add to that a dangerous lifestyle, and I’m just glad these are good kids. Even if they’re a handful.”

“I’ll come help when I can,” Veronica assures her. “And I’ll drag the Bat with me often enough that he can be the big bad disciplinarian and I can maintain my rep as the cool aunt.”

Superman smirks. “Pretty sure you secured that rep when #VisforVengeance went viral.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Robin’s school actually got me to come talk to his class about crime fighting on career day. It was mortifying.”

Superman leans down. “They asked her about the bat nipples,” he murmurs to Black Canary, who stifles a guffaw.

“I still can’t believe you posted a photo of that,” Black Canary says, when she’s sufficiently recovered from her laughing fit.

“I can’t believe Batman hacked my Twitter for that,” Superman retorts, frowning in memory.

“Good lord, Big Blue, he’s the Batman. He’s like, the trolliest troll in the history of trolls. Of course he would hack your Twitter account.”

Veronica chuckles at the Man of Steel’s pout.

“Hmph.”

“And by the way, Supes, the Bat and I are dragging you into training too.”

He scowls. “Veronica—”

“This is the point where you say, ‘okay, Veronica, let’s work out a schedule for it.’”

“Veronica, I don’t—”

“Pfft. This team needs you. And you know why.”

His shoulders slump. “I’m not comfortable—”

She sobers and turns to him, tilting her face up so she can stare at her friend’s miserable one. “Since when was doing the right thing ever comfortable?” she asks. “And who knows that truth better than us? I’m not saying you have to do it today. I’m saying that when the need arises, you need to make sure you can answer it. For your sake as well as these kids’.”

She holds his gaze a moment longer, sees his denial but also a measure of guilt in those blue, blue eyes. And, knowing not to push her luck, turns away, ostensibly returning her attention to the Bat’s lecture.

“As members of the Young Justice team, you will be held to the highest of standards,” Batman is saying at the front of the room. “To that end, although Black Canary will be overseeing the bulk of your training, we have also set a rotating schedule of trainers from the Justice League as well as other experts in various fields to educated you on skills necessary for crime fighting and life saving required before you are fledged into the ranks of the League. This will be alongside your civilian schooling requirements and the one-on-one training you receive from your mentors.”  
  
“Why all the extra training?” Robin asks sulkily. “It’s not like we’re less qualified than some of the other guys you’ve accepted.”

Kid Flash starts fake-coughing. “Booster Gold,” he says, between coughs. Veronica smothers a laugh. She really likes that kid. But she also sees resentful agreement from Superboy, who had been liberated from a Cadmus lab just days ago and who she can already see will need a bit of an attitude adjustment moving forward.

That being the case, and seeing Batman’s death glare, she decides to step in. “How about I answer that one, Batman?” she offers. He looks at her, and she can tell he’s raising an eyebrow, but he nods briefly.

She smiles and gives a little wave. “Hey, guys, I know a couple of you have met me before, but for those who haven’t, I’m Veronica Mars, the Justice League’s liaison to, well, most of the civilian and government agencies of the world. I also help out with the League’s investigation work and training, and those familiar with Gotham may know me as the vigilante who goes by the call sign Vesper.

“Robin, you raise a valid argument about experience. However, League bylaws, in accordance with agreements with the United Nations, require that Justice League members be at least eighteen years of age upon investiture. And while UN guidelines do not dictate all League policies, because we try to restrict our rights to take extralegal measures for absolute-necessity scenarios, we cannot swear you into the League as yet.”

“What’s the point of all this then?” Kid Flash asks. “We could just run the team on our own.”

“Good question,” Veronica says, smiling. “The point is that, I’m sure you are all aware that in the League itself, experience counts for a lot. With Batman as strategic leader, you can bet that each and every member has been assessed for their skill levels not just in terms of power and ability but also strategy and their team compatibility. The skills you develop as part of the Young Justice team, given that the curriculum has been designed by the founding members, will ensure that you guys have a leg up on your assessments even before you join the League.”

“Think of it as an internship that will help you fast-track your promotion once you are eighteen and can join the League,” Superman adds.

“Plus, you’ll get to do this with League resources _and_ League backup, should you need it,” Veronica adds. She doesn’t mention that many of the founders think of “League backup” as pulling the kids’ out of danger should they bite off more than they can chew. She of all people knows what it’s like to enter into a crusade before being legally able to vote.

Miss Martian raises her hand. “Why do we need fast-tracked promotions?”

Robin smirks. “You ever been on crowd control duty?”

She shakes her head. “I do not believe that I have, Robin.”

Kid Flash groans. “You do not ever want to be on crowd control duty.”

“Crowd control is an essential element to limiting the number of casualties in a natural or supervillain-induced disaster,” Batman says.

“It’s all so bo-oh-oh-ring,” Robin counters.

“Excitement is not—”

“Ah, give it up, Batman,” Veronica says, winking at Robin, who grins back. “You’re not going to convince these guys that crowd control is more fun than ass-kicking.”

“Language,” Superman says reproachfully.

Veronica rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue, making Robin and Kid Flash laugh. She senses Miss Martian and Aqualad’s slightly appalled reaction to her irreverence toward the Man of Steel, but shrugs it off. They’ll learn.

“I don’t see why I need training at all.” The angry statement is from Superboy. Yep, he’s showing all the inklings of being a problem child. But Veronica has already decided she has a soft spot for him. He reminds her a little of a young Logan Echolls, circa sophomore and junior year of high school—angry at the world, but so in need of love and acceptance. “With my powers, there won’t be much I can’t handle.”

It instantly puts Superman’s back up. “Listen, you—”

Veronica interrupts his tirade with a hand on his huge bicep. “Kal,” she says, and he subsides. She looks at Black Canary. “Dinah? Want to take this one?”

“Training is necessary because no matter how much you ‘can handle,’ there’s always bound to be something you can’t rely on your natural skills for. And nature will only get you halfway. Making the most of your ability requires hard work, dedication, and flexibility. Learning to work with others to complement their own abilities? That’s even harder.”

Superboy still looks defiant. “I’m not convinced.”

“Then give us some time to convince you,” Veronica says, smiling at him gently. “Kal?”

But Superman—who has been distant and suspicious since the arrival and acceptance of his younger clone—says nothing, seething silently. Veronica meets Batman’s eyes, rolls hers. She then turns to the team. “What Big Blue isn’t telling you is how much he needed training back in the day.” She smirks. “Batman and I whooped his butt into shape, to borrow Kid Flash’s phrasing. I daresay he's a better hero for it.” She raises an eyebrow at Superman, who nods begrudgingly.

Superboy doesn’t say anything, but she sees his gaze shift to Superman, then herself, then Black Canary, considering. It’s good enough, for now. Some things need to be learned the hard way, Veronica knows. This is often true of Kryptonians, who have very hard heads.

“You can borrow anything of mine, any time you want,” Kid Flash says, interrupting her train of thought.

Veronica grins. “Kid, I’ve been hit on by experts. You need to work on your lines. Or a butt-whoopin’ is all you’re gonna get as you strike out.”

Robin snickers. “Oh, burn!”

“The good news is that Veronica, Batman, and several members of the League have already volunteered to help with training as well,” Black Canary says. “So as you progress, you’ll gain better insight into what it takes not just to fight the good fight, the Justice League way, but you’ll learn what it means to do it your way while still working with others.”

“Will there be cookies?”

This, of course, is a question from Robin. Veronica smirks. “If you’re good,” she says.

“And if we’re bad?” Kid Flash asks suggestively.

Robin shakes his head at his friend. “Oh, dude. You do not want to know.”


	13. Bookmark (or, Veronica Isn't the Only Person Who Cyberstalks Their Exes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has the feed of search results for “Veronica Mars” on the Gotham Gazette and Daily Planet websites bookmarked.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 24 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes anytime before the events of "Demonstration," the second ficlet in this little anthology.

Logan has two guilty pleasures when it comes to booking time on the ship’s computers whenever he’s deployed.

The first is Veronica’s emails.

She’s a flood-or-famine type writer. There will be times when she sends him rambling messages detailing her days, her thoughts on the admittedly crazier-than-Neptune town she’s moved to, and updates on her friends’ lives as well as her own. She’ll pepper these epic emails with shorter emails showing him pictures of cats or even selfies of herself, and often Mac and Bruce, as well as another person she’s befriended in her new East Coast life—a Metropolis reporter named Clark Kent.

Then she’ll get caught up in a case and he’ll get no info for days, even weeks. He always makes sure to shoot her little emails during this period, just asking how she is doing, reminding her he’s always happy to be a sounding board, if only via email or when their schedules align enough to Skype.

Most of the time, she’ll message back with brief notes like “On a case. Busy, but doing okay. Stay safe.” Sometimes he’ll get radio silence for long stretches. Either way, she eventually returns to her rambling emails like she had always been writing them instead of risking life and limb (he assumes, partially because it’s her and partially because it’s Gotham) to investigate whatever case had gotten her so caught up she couldn’t type up more than ten or twelve words to him.

Still, he knows, when she’s busy, that’s better than Wallace gets. Heck, that’s better than _her dad_ gets, and that’s saying a lot. At least, it does to Logan.

But he can’t help worrying about her. He’s been doing it since they were twelve, and he’ll probably be doing it from beyond the grave, which hopefully won’t be for another sixty or seventy years yet. Worrying about Veronica Mars is possibly the last addiction Logan has, and the one he has no intention of kicking.

However, he’s learned a little about managing this addiction over the years. The first step: establish a baseline. If he checks his email and finds Veronica hasn’t sent him anything for three days or more, he sends her a note. If she goes three days without replying to his note, he checks in with Mac. Who always replies, even if it’s just a brief _she__’s working undercover_ or _she__’s traveling for a case_.

Of course, the counting is only one measure to keep his sanity. He also keeps a Google Alert for her name. He also has the tag feed for “Veronica Mars” bookmarked on the websites for both _The Gotham Gazette _and _The Daily Planet_. He added the latter after noticing how often her name comes up in articles by her friend Kent as well as stories by Lois Lane and Cat Grant.

“You done cyberstalking your girlfriend, Mouth?”

Logan grimaces at his WSO (his weapons system officer, pronounced “wizzo,” although Veronica always likes to stretch it out so it rhymes with Cheese Os, because he swears that woman’s mind is at least half on food at any given time). “What’re you talking about?”

The other man snorts. “Ya think we don’t know you do the whole Google alert thing for your girlfriend’s name?”

“Okay, one, she’s not my girlfriend—” Logan ignores the way the other man lets out yet another snort. “And two, I just like to make sure she’s okay. She’s got a dangerous job.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mouth, but so do we. And it ain’t gonna get less dangerous if you keep worrying about some chick half a world away. She’s probably safer than you are, anyway.”

Now it's Logan's turn to snort. Safer? Veronica Mars? In Gotham City? He shakes his head. That’ll be the day.


	14. Tomorrow (or, Villains Just Love Veronica Mars: Lex Luthor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica Mars meets Lex Luthor. Oh, and Bruce Wayne is there to introduce them.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 26 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place perhaps a year or less after “Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham.” Will be doing a whole series around famous DCU villains in the long run, but these can be read out of order.

It’s Veronica’s first time in the City of Tomorrow, but from the way Lex Luthor is rambling, she’s wishing it was yesterday and she’d said no when she’d been asked to be Brucie Wayne’s plus one.

“Please do not make me go over there and talk to him,” she mutters to Bruce.

“Lex is a blowhard, but he’s a blowhard with the financial and political capital to back himself up, and I’m concerned about some of the unpublicized projects whose provenance I have traced to LexCorp subsidiaries.” Bruce’s voice is low and for her ears only.

She huffs out a breath. “I get why _you_ have to talk to him then. I don’t get why I do.”

“I need you to distract him. I don’t want him looking too closely into the brain injury.”

She raises an eyebrow. If he’s that concerned about his Brucie facade, she’ll have to ratchet up her estimation of Lex Luthor’s perceptiveness. “Fine. Do you need me to play nice?”

He smiles vapidly, pats her hand where it’s resting in the crook of his elbow as he maneuvers them forward, closer to the Metropolis billionaire. “Just be yourself, Nica, darling,” he says, loud enough to be heard. “I’m sure he’ll love you. Lexy! Lexy!”

Heads turn, and the number of shocked gazes tells Veronica a lot about what Lex Luthor allows from his sycophants. Then she turns and focuses on the man himself. He’s well-built, though his suit is cut to downplay just how muscular he is. The baldness, rather than diminishing from his aura, only seems to add to the powerful confidence he exudes.

His face shows a flash of rage for a split second, and then he is all sharp smiles and welcoming gestures. “Bruce Wayne!” he says jovially. “So glad you could make it to our fine city!”

“Well, it’s not too far to hop for a party,” Brucie says grinning. “Plus I promised to show my new little sister the sights. Have you met Nica?”

“No, I have not,” Luthor says. His smile is predatory and full of teeth. Veronica is vaguely reminded of Aaron Echolls. She suppresses a shudder as the billionaire takes her hand, bows over it, and presses hot, wet lips to the back of it. “Lex Luthor. Enchanted to meet you. The photos I’ve seen of you simply do not do you justice.”

“Thank you,” she says, lips twisting into a smirk. “Although if you’re talking about the photos from when Bruce and I first arrived in the US, the bar is set pretty low.”

He chuckles. “You’re too modest.” His voice is rings with what she’s sure he imagines is an approximation of warmth. “Beauty and humility too—Brucie, where _do_ you find them?”

Bruce shrugs, waves a hand with extra carelessness. “Oh, you know, around.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “By ‘around’ he means terrorist dungeons. Everyone knows they’re the best place to pick up chicks.”

Luthor throws his head back and lets out a full on belly laugh. “Bruce, Bruce, you must let me borrow your most charming companion.”

Bruce pouts. “Nope. No way. If I misplace her, Alfred will kill me.”

“And how _is_ Mr. Pennyworth these days?” Luthor asks, still smiling. But he darts a glance toward his bodyguard, one Mercy Graves, according to Bruce’s files. The woman nods subtly, then turns and disappears into the crowd. “Still managing your life for you?”

The Gotham billionaire shrugs and grins unrepentantly. “If he doesn’t do it, who will, right?”

“Lex, darling, aren’t you going to introduce me to your companions?” a voice purrs from behind Veronica. She’d known someone was approaching, but the woman, a tall redhead whose cheekbones could be used to cut stone, oozes falseness and sex like some sort of uber-corny Bond girl. Veronica can tell there is no way the woman’s dark red hair or torpedo-like breasts are natural; the only thing real about her is her somewhat heavy Russian accent. St. Petersburg, she thinks. A Bratva connection?

“Oh, but certainly,” Luthor says, smiling indulgently. “Zoya, Bruce Wayne and Veronica Mars. Bruce, Veronica—may I call you Veronica?—this is Zoya Kozlova, a friend of mine who’s visiting from New York.”

“Of course I know who you are!” the redhead exclaims breathily. “I read all about your rescue in the papers! Mr. Wayne, I can only imagine the ordeal you must have suffered. I had hoped one day to perhaps meet you and offer what comfort I could in person, after having been so moved by your story.”

“Oh?” Veronica rolls her eyes as Brucie leers at the woman. His smile is carnal as he says, “Perhaps you’d like to show me what kind of comfort you have in mind.”

When Mercy appears out of the crowd to once more stand in Luthor’s shadow, Veronica’s suspicions about the Russian woman’s timing is confirmed. She’s also very intrigued as to why the Metropolis billionaire wants to get her alone. So she sighs and quirks a half-smile at the man she loves like a brother. “Really, Bruce?”

“Nica,” he says, smiling broadly. “I’m going to go with Ms. Chloe here—”

“Zoya,” the redhead corrects him, pouting.

“I’m going to go with Ms. Zoya here,” he says obediently. “And I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

She rolls her eyes, holds a hand out. “Valet stub.”

“Nica,” he whines.

“I know you, Brue. Keys the Lambo because you are _not_ ditching me in a strange city to bump uglies with some redhead you just met like two seconds ago.”

He pouts, his expression hurt. “I’d never ditch you, Nica.” But he pulls the stub out of his pocket and hands it to her.

She smiles fondly as she tucks the stub into her clutch. “Then consider this insurance. And remember, no glove, no love.”

Luthor is chuckling as she turns back to him, not bothering to watch Bruce walk away with his newfound companion. “You handle him well. I have heard he can be… difficult.”

She snorts. “You mean you’ve read the tabloids and heard about the shenanigans he got himself into while I was in California. I understand it was strongly suggested he bring me as his date tonight.”

The Metropolis billionaire smiles. “I see you’re as perceptive as advertised. And I also see why some of the East Coast bluebloods have started calling you the Brucie Whisperer.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “The old biddies just need to grow themselves some gumption. Bruce isn’t that bad.”

Luthor’s eyebrows shoot up. “So he didn’t go swimming in the governor’s lily pond with a couple of nude supermodels?”

She grimaces. “Okay, Mr. Luthor. Change of topic. What do you want from me?”

“Why, nothing but the pleasure of your company, of course.”

“Cut the bullcrap, Luthor,” she says, glaring. “You didn’t get your bodyguard to bring over Miss Bottled Sex and Red Hair Dye to seduce Bruce away just to make small talk.”

The man just grins at her. “You are as forthright as rumored, Ms. Mars. I like that in a woman.”

“Then you’re gonna love me. What do you want, Luthor?”

He takes her elbow and ushers her out toward the balcony. Curious, she lets him escort her through the glass doors and into the chill night. She doesn’t comment on the fact that Mercy Graves follows not five paces behind them.

“You’re right in that I want something from you, Ms. Mars,” Luthor says once they’re outside.

“Shocker,” she deadpans.

He laughs. “Yes, yes, I do like you.”

“Bully for you. Get to the point.”

Still chuckling, he shakes his head. “I want to hire you.”

Huh. She wasn’t expecting that. “To do what?”

“I want to hire you to uncover Superman’s secret identity.”


	15. Medication (or, Bats Fly High)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman is high on pain meds. Veronica should definitely not gain any enjoyment from it. But, well, it’s Batman. And she’s Veronica. How could she not?
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 28 of Promptober 2018]

She should feel really bad that her best friend, shield buddy, and honorary brother came as close to dying last night as she’s ever seen him do. Really, she should. Plus, there’s the knowledge that he’s so beat up because the area of the docks the Batman was monitoring mafia activities in pretty much blew up.

But Bruce Wayne is just so _precious_ when he’s doped up on pain meds.

“Nicanic, what’re you doing?” he slurs as Alfred checks his IV.

Veronica rolls her eyes at the butler. “Same thing I was doing when you asked me five minutes ago, Brue.”

“Whassat?”

“Looking into your explosion. The Maronis have pissed off more than one crime syndicate lately, if your intel is solid.”

He scowls. “Whatchamean, if my intel’s solid? I’m the goddamn Batman!”

She grins. “Yes, you are,” she reassures him. “You are vengeance, you are the night, and all that jazz. I didn’t mean to insult your investigatory skills, detective.” She calls him by the name Ra’s al Ghul, head of the League of Assassins, has given him.

“Fucking right, you didn’t, _quth saghiruh_.” He reciprocates with the Demon Head’s name for Veronica, which is Arabic for _kitten_. “Whatchagot?”

“Pretty sure it’s either the Irish clans looking to infringe on the Italians or Falcone making sure they don’t get too big for their britches.”

“Evidence?”

She glances over, sees the glazed look in his eyes. “I’ll send you a report.”

“’Smy Nica,” he says proudly.

“You just appreciate that I’m a mean hand at paperwork.”

“And you love me.”

She smirks. “Do I?”

He nods, grinning. “Do too. Who else is gonna tell me I’m full of shit?”

She starts ticking names off her fingers. “Alfred. Mac. Lucius. Clark. Anybody who’s ever met you as Brucie fucking Wayne.”

He laughs, then grimaces. “Ow, Nica. Hurts to laugh.”

“Don’t, then.”

“But you’re so funny.” He’s smiling. “It’s your super power.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Veronica deadpans. “If I were to put on a comedy show, I’d be richer than you in no time.”

“If you invited a couple of guys like Ra’s, you could be.”

“Just the idea of there being ‘a couple of guys like Ra’s’ fucking terrifies me, Brue.”

He nods. “Fair point. But you could handle them. Got th’ freaking Demon Head wrapped around your finger for two years.”

She grimaces. “God knows why.”

“Pluck.”

“What?”

“Pluck. ‘S what you got. Y’r plucky.” He grins foolishly at the word. “Plucky clucky kitty cat. Don’t take no bullshit from megalomaniacs.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a poet, you didn’t even know it.”

He’s nodding, seemingly delighted by her recognition. “I am. ‘S my jam. I’m a rhyming man. ‘Cause I can.”

She facepalms. “Ohmigod, you are _so_ lucky Mac isn’t here to record this.”

He giggles a little, reaches for her hand. “I like it when it’s just us. We should make it a tradition. For whenever we’re in a ‘splosion.”

“I very much hope, sir, that explosions will not become such commonplace occurrences that you must form traditions around them.”

Bruce and Veronica look up to see Alfred at the door. Bruce grins. “No promises, Alfie.”

Veronica shrugs. “What can I say? It’s not my first bombing either.”

“Most would take that fact as reason to reassess their lifestyles,” the butler says smartly. Veronica imagines his eyes must be burning from the need to roll.

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, Alfie,” she says as she watches him fiddle with the doses on Bruce’s pain medication, “but neither of us is anything like ‘most people.’”

“I have, dear child,” he says, and there’s a warmth in his tone though his face looks stoic. “Sadly, I’ve resigned myself to associating with danger mongers.”

Bruce meets her eye and makes a winding gesture around his pinky finger. Unrestrained by butler training, Veronica sticks out her tongue and rolls her eyes at him.

“Now, I do believe it’s time Master Bruce got some rest.”

“’M not tired, Alfred,” Bruce says, pouting. Then he spoils it by yawning. Veronica smirks.

“If you say so, sir.”

“I’ll stay with him, Alfie,” Veronica says. “I can just work on my laptop and keep an eye on him.”

Bruce frowns. “’M not a sick child.”

“No,” she agrees. “You’re a grown man. That’s why it’s worse.”

“If y’r gonna stay, make yourself useful.”

“As I’ve taken over the investigation of your little arms deal and the way it—haha—blew up in the Maronis’ faces, it could be argued that I’m doing exactly that.”

He flaps a lazy hand at her. “Sing for me.”

She startles at that. “What?”

His voice deepens, takes on a melodic, bluesy quality. “What I want from you is… your voice.”

She gapes. “Did you legit just quote _The Little Mermaid _at me?”

He nods, though his eyes are drooping. “You poor unfortunate soul.”

She picks her jaw up the floor. “I’m not going to sing _The Little Mermaid_ at you, Brue.”

He flaps his hand at her. Flops it, really. “Sing whatever.”

She stares at him for a moment, then thinks about the previous night. The way she’d all but crashed his fancypants car getting him to the cave and Alfred. How they’d had to call in Dr. Leslie Thompkins, who’d looked both enraged and despairing at the sight of what their “foolish” crusade had wrought them.

The crimson that had stained her hands and clothing.

The way his blood pressure had dropped until they’d managed to stabilize him.

She sighs and scoots over, placing a hand on his head, petting his messy black hair. His eyes are already closed, and it makes it easier for her to open her mouth and sing softly.

Since he quoted a Disney movie at her, she smirks a little and chooses another one. “A dream is a wish your heart makes…”


	16. Trick (or, Villains Just Love Veronica Mars: The Joker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman has been captured by the Joker. It’s up to his small snarky partner to save the day.
> 
> [Previously posted for Day 30 of Promptober 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place maybe a few years after the end of "Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham." Veronica’s a part-time investigator living in Gotham and is completing her degree at Gotham University. She also moonlights as Vesper, a vigilante colleague of Batman’s.

Batman hangs like a fish on a hook over a vat of acid. Idly he wonders at the inefficiency of the clown’s method of killing. He resists the urge to shake his head over the Joker’s love of delivering speeches instead of getting on with murder already. He does, however, indulge in an eye roll from behind the white lenses of his cowl.

“You know, Batsy, I really do like you.” The purple-clad villain pauses, clearly waiting for Batman to reply. As if he would give the madman the satisfaction.

“Really, you’re almost as fun as that lovely friend of yours. Vesper, I think she’s called?” The clown blinks flirtatiously at the cowled vigilante, grinning widely.

The Bat remains silent. It turns the Joker’s grin upside down.

“Aww, fine, Batsy. Be that way. But you and I both know that despite your atrociously boring wardrobe choices, you’re a man after my own heart. A tricksy, tricksy individual. ” The clown cackles maniacally. His thugs join him, the obligatory laughter ringing sharp and false.

“Shut up! Shut up!” the Joker shrieks at his minions. “Don’t pretend you get the joke! It’s between my Batsy and me!”

_B, I_ _’m two minutes out. Hold on._

He’s surprised. He knows Veronica is hip deep in final requirements for her semester at Gotham University. “I’ve got it,” he murmurs, loud enough to be caught on comm but softly, so the Joker won’t hear.

_Don_ _’t be ridiculous. Although why I thought you might wise up and arrange for tech-and-tac support when you went out tonight, given Umbra is out of town, I have no idea._

“Hnn.” When Bruce Wayne had conceived of his mission, he had imagined it taking him on a lonely path. That notion had quickly disappeared under the persistence of Alfred Pennyworth, Veronica Mars, Mac Mackenzie, and the smattering of other people who’d camped out at the gates of his life, refusing to leave until he let them in.

“What’s that, Batsy?” The Joker cups one gloved hand around an ear. “Tired of just hanging around?”

He starts cackling again at his own joke. This time, his thugs don’t laugh along with him. A mistake, as the clown stops laughing to scowl at them. “What? You don’t think I’m funny?” He pulls his gun and shoots the closest minion between the eyes. The sound of the shot echoes through the warehouse, jolting everyone but the Bat and the clown into forced laughter.

_I_ _’m here, B. Got in through an air vent with roof access. I’m going to grapple down and catch you on the upswing, push you toward the catwalk behind you. Be ready._

Batman has already loosened the ropes around his wrists; he’s now actually holding on to the hook above his head rather than dangling from it. “Do it.”

There’s a crash and the familiar sound of a grapple gun firing, then a black-clad figure is swinging toward him. She half-crashes into him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lets her momentum propel them both toward the catwalk. He lets go at precisely the right moment, lands lithely on his feet, and helps steady her as she slides down his side to stand on the catwalk as well.

The Joker is clapping his hands delightedly. “Vespy, Vespy, I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” he singsongs. “That was a _spectacular_ entrance, darling!”

“Thanks, Jokey,” Vesper calls out. “Always good to know my efforts are appreciated.”

Batman scowls. He loves Veronica Mars like a sister, but the woman does _not_ know how to keep her snark in check. Even around super villains. _Especially_ around super villains. He resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache starting between his eyes. He’s not entirely sure if it’s caused by the noxious fumes from the acid or his partner’s tendency to mouth off to murderers.

“I always appreciate your efforts to entertain, Vespy,” the Joker declares.

“I would say the same, dude, but really, Joker? An acid vat?”

The clown frowns. “What’s wrong with it? I thought it was suitably dramatic for the caped killjoy here.”

Vesper shakes her head, then she and Batman jump down to confront Joker. She walks toward the clown while Batman neutralizes the threat from the remaining thugs, knocking them out and tying them up. The Joker doesn’t notice, his eyes fixated on Vesper’s face, for all he can’t make out her features through the mask. “I’m disappointed in you, Jokes. I thought you had more imagination than this.”

The man’s shoulders slump. “Really? I thought for sure it’d be a bloody good show.”

“Really,” Vesper says nodding. “I think you should give yourself some time to think, Jokes.”

He frowns. “Can’t though. Got to get the Bat out of my way, maybe rob a few banks so I can pay my minions here.”

“I could put in a good word for you, get you solitary in Arkham,” Vesper offers. “But you’d have to come tonight, and quietly. You don’t want Batman telling them about how you tried to kill him like a B-movie villain, do you?”

“Nooooo,” the Joker says, shaking his head frantically. “I’d be ruined!”

“Shhh,” Veronica says, stepping close and laying a hand on one padded purple shoulder. “Shhh. Don’t worry. Batman won’t tell anyone. Will you, Bat?”

Batman can tell she’s biting back a grin. He himself barely keeps himself from grinding his teeth. “No,” he growls.

“See? Nobody has to know.”

“Okay,” the Joker says. “Okay.” He straightens, grins. “Thanks, Vespy. I’m ready to go back to Arkham now.”

Vesper gently turns him, and he follows her directions eagerly, even putting his hands together behind his back so she can more easily put the handcuffs on him.

“Unbelievable,” Batman mutters under his breath.

“Oh, Batsy!” Joker sings out. “Don’t think this is the last you’ll be seeing of me! I’ll be back, and I’ll come up with an even funnier way to get rid of you! Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Vesper,” Batman says, nodding at her. Then he vanishes into the shadows, though he stays close enough to watch the scenes.

The Joker is making a pouty face. “Oh,” he coos sadly. “Leaving so soon?”

“Sorry, Jokes. Y’know crime never takes a break, so neither can I.”

The Joker chuckles at that. “Oh, Vespy, you give the _best_ one-liners.”

“Thanks, Jokes,” Vesper says. “Now, remember, be good ‘til the cops get here. Otherwise I’ll hear about it, and you can say bye-bye to solitary when you get to Arkham.”

“I promise I’ll be good, Vespy,” the clown says. “Just for you, just for you.”

“All right. See ya around, Jokes.”

And Vesper too vanishes into the shadows. Fucking finally. Batman does pinch the space between his eyebrows. Goddamn it. What is he supposed to do about Veronica freaking Mars?


	17. Abort (or, An Unexpected Encounter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should have been a routine mission for US Navy aviator LTJG Logan Echolls. And then the Justice League showed up. 
> 
> [New one-shot!]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably around 3-4 years after the events of Veronica Mars and the Missing Prince of Gotham. The Justice League is in operation and well established with world governments and agencies. Oh, and since I had Tony Stark in my first fic, he makes a brief appearance here to, just cause I miss him.
> 
> Like everything else in here, this is unbetaed, so do let me know if you spot errors!

Logan loves flying. There’s something absolutely liberating about being in a plane, his hands on the controls, him in charge of his destiny as he soars through the air of an F-22 Raptor. Well, as in charge of his destiny as a man can be, when he’s enlisted in the US Navy.

“Razor 1, what’s your position?”

Logan listens as the lead pilot in their squadron reports on their position and heading and Control advises them of clear skies ahead. He acknowledges and confirms where appropriate. But as they approach their target, he grits his teeth, then forces himself to ease up.

This is the part he hates about flying for the navy, the need to actually fire missiles at a target with intent to destroy. Fortunately, the target in this case is a supposedly secret weapons storage silo by known terrorists and no loss of life is expected. He’s never yet had to fire on a hostile base, but he knows it’s unrealistic to expect that he’ll go his whole military career without having to take a life, even if it is on orders for Mission Control.

“Razor 1, be advised, you have a bogey traveling at high velocity in your direction.”

“Copy, abort mission?”

There’s a pause, which is unusual to send both pilots on high alert. Logan hears Control advise a go-around if nothing shows up but to undertake evasive maneuvers if the bogey turns out to be hostile as it is reading as something too small to be an aircraft but too large to be a bird. He frowns. A drone, perhaps? He listens to his squad leader ask the same thing, but Mission Control has no answers for them and advises them of such.

Just then Logan hears the kind of swoosh he associates with other mach-capable aircraft, only at a much softer scale and without the roar of engines. He grabs the control yoke and holds his plane steady against a slight backwash as the other—whatever it is—streams past between the two jets.

“What the fuck?”

It’s unusual for his squad leader to be so unprofessional on coms but the unidentified flying object that passed them in a blur of blue and red has to be one for the books. Then it slows some distance away, stops, and heads back in their direction. And Logan’s jaw drops when he sees their bogey clearly for the first time as it changes direction again and keeps pace with them.

Or rather _he_ keeps pace with them. Since their bogey is in a blue suit and sports a red cape.

Superman waves at his squad leader then turns to him and looks surprised for a second, before grinning widely and _winking._

_What the fuck?_ Logan thinks giddily. _Superman just _winked_ at me. _He’s actually met the guy once, at Bruce Wayne’s house shortly after the Gotham billionaire and Veronica, his ex-girlfriend, current friend and forever love of his life, were rescued from being held hostage by terrorists about three years back. Is it possible the Man of Steel remembers him?

Logan dismisses the idea. He must see dozens, even hundreds of people on a daily basis. He must _save_ that many people on a daily basis.

“Razor 1, report status!”

“Control, our bogey is identified as Superman. Repeat, bogey is Superman.”

“Razor 1, copy. We have received advice from Justice League HQ that Superman will be patched into coms. Keep all lines open, belay mission directives at this time.”

“I appreciate that,” the warm tones of the Man of Steel come over coms. “I’m afraid your intel is bad and apart from being a weapons storage silo, your target also contains holding cells for a human trafficking operation. We’d like you guys to belay your mission while we conduct rescue operations. It shouldn’t be above ten or fifteen minutes or so.”

“Copy that, Superman.” His commanding officer sounds awed.

“Or, you know, you could just abort,” another voice interjects over coms. “Once the area’s clear, I can blow the thing sky-high.”

“Razor 1, bogey on your six!”

“Relax, guys, it’s me. Uh, Tony Stark. Iron Man?”

And sure enough, another man flies up beside Superman, although he doesn’t wave as he’s obviously using the jets in his palms to stabilize his flight.

“Hi guys, is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

“Razor 1, report status!”

“This is Razor 1, confirming second bogey identified as Iron Man.”

“What does he want?”

“Yes, Stark, what do you want?” Superman has his arms crossed and is wearing a disapproving frown. “This is a JL op. We weren’t advised the Avengers would—”

“Don’t get those bright red panties in a twist, Big Blue, this isn’t an Avengers thing. I got a tip that silo contains SI weaponry my rat of a former CEO sold under the table to some terrorists. As you know, I don’t make that stuff anymore, and I’m trying to get rid of it when it falls into the hands of anyone outside the US armed forces and various government agencies. So what do you say? Wanna play?”

“Razor 1, Razor 2, stand down and return to Mother,” Mission Control orders them, calling them back to the “mothership,” the aircraft carrier he’s called home for the past few months. “No use wasting our ordinance if Iron Man’s got it covered.”

“Razor 1, Wilco.”

“Razor 2, Wilco,” Logan echoes, and initiates a roll to head back in the direction they came.

“Thank you, gentlemen. The Justice League will send a liaison to debrief you on our efforts and thank you for your cooperation within the hour. Superman out.”

Logan’s pretty sure he and his squad leader are gonna be the most popular guys in the Mess tonight, having had a close encounter with not just Superman but Iron Man as well.

“Hey, hey, hold up!” Stark calls after them, then flies in between the planes again, tilting his body so he can stare at Logan’s plane. “Dude, I know you. Jarvis says you’re Logan Echolls.”

“Ah, yes, sir,” Logan responds, flustered.

“Ha! No wonder Big Blue was grinning when I got here. Remember me? Pretty sure we met at Brucie’s zombie birthday party a couple years back.”

“Yes, sir. It’s an honor to see you again.”

“What’s wit this ‘sir’ stuff? Call me Tony! If I remember correctly, you were with Veronica Mars. Love that girl! She looks like she’d fit in your pocket, but boy does she kick ass. Saved my life once, and didn’t even charge me for the privilege.”

“Ah, yes, she does that.”

“Cool. Seen her lately?”

“Before my last deployment, sir.”

“Ah, ah, ah!”

“Mr. Stark.”

“What did I say? Call me Tony. Tell her I said hi when you see her next, won’t you?” He laughs. “We Californians have to stick together after all.”

“Stark, if you’re going to shoot the silo, it’s clear,” Superman’s voice came over coms. “You can come back and stop bugging Logan now.”

The use of his name makes Logan flush. And also groan inwardly as he will probably have to explain it in the debrief. Not to mention his squad will probably want to know all about his past encounters with the men of Steel and Iron.

“All right, all right, don’t have a hernia, Supes!” The red and gold figure gives the two pilots a jaunty salute that only had him wobbling a little, then headed back toward the target.

“Razor 2, did both Superman and Iron Man mention you by name?”

Logan grimaces. “Ah, yes, sir. I’ve… met each of them once before.”

“XO says proceed directly to debrief upon landing.”

“Roger that.”

Back at the aircraft carrier, they’re rushed into debrief not only with the Carrier Strike Group commander and any officers directly related to mission control and intel, but also with the carrier’s commanding officer, executive officer, and carrier air wing commander. The report on their actions is fairly quick—they didn’t actually do anything but fly there and then fly back, after all—but their XO and several other officers quiz them about every little thing beginning when Superman arrived on scene.

Of course, they had to ask him how he knew both Superman and Iron Man, so he had to explain to them about Veronica, and, well, that was a longer story than he was comfortable explaining to his superiors. He just told them she was PI who was a long-time friend and sometime ex-girlfriend who was known to occasionally work with certain members of the Justice League and Avengers.

Yes, he was still in contact with her. No, he had no knowledge of what she did for them, although since she was a private investigator, he imagined it was some sort of investigation work. No, he didn’t think their connection had anything to do with why this mission didn’t go as planned.

He is saved from further interrogation by the arrival of the deputy carrier air wing commander.

“Sirs,” the DCAG says nervously, “the liaisons from the Justice League have requested permission to land their jet on the carrier.”

The CO frowns. “Well, give it to them, then, and guide them in!”

“Uh, that’s just it, sir. Their jet is, uh, it’s invisible,” the guy blurts out. Logan has never seen him so flustered.

“What the hell do you mean, it’s invisible?”

“Uh, W-Wonder Woman radioed in to warn us she was inbound with one passenger. She’s been assigned a holding pattern, but her jet’s not registering on radar, and when she did a flyby nobody could _see_ it even though we could hear it right on top of us! She says with your permission, she can land it without guidance from us.”

Since, with one or two exceptions, everyone in the room is a naval aviator or former aviator, this of course is the equivalent of mainlining sugar in a four-year-old, so everyone stands up, and when the CO says, “Well, then, let’s go meet them, boys,” only the dignity and discipline of their ranks keep them from sprinting to the flight deck.

As promised, once permission is given, they can all hear the roar of a jet engine as it lands, but Logan is perplexed by the lack of the usual sounds of wheels on the runway, and the wires, or arresting gear, remain slack the whole time. Even when the jet can be heard powering down.

Then obviously some kind of hatch is popped up because Wonder Woman—easily identified by her Amazonian armor, deep black hair, and possibly the most beautiful face anyone’s ever seen on a woman—can be seen. She waves to the officers and turns back to her passenger, seated behind her. Then she stands, one deep red boot resting on what appears to be thin air while her other leg just sort of disappears into the sky.

She offers an arm down to her passenger, and suddenly another form pops up. Logan, standing at ease, just barely resists the urge to gape when he sees Wonder Woman wrap an arm around a petite blonde dressed in head-to-toe tactical gear. He _knows_ that blonde. She’s supposed to be half a world away, in Gotham.

The two women land in front of the assembled officers. They visibly study the faces of every man present, although Logan sees a Veronica smirk when she gets to him, before she moves on to the next person.

“Gentlemen,” Wonder Woman says, and her voice is warm and wise and amused and all the things anyone might imagine a benevolent goddess sounds like. “I am Diana of Themyscira, but I serve in the Justice League, where you may know me as Wonder Woman. With me is Veronica Mars, one of our strategic operations leaders and main liaison between the League and the United States government. She is here to report on our activities, which have intersected with yours this day. I thank you for allowing us to land my jet on your vessel.”

A round of introductions follows, which takes a while since so many officers are present. Then the CO invites them not to the mission control room where they’d had their debrief or even to a meeting room, but to his captain’s cabin.

Wonder Woman shakes her head in clear disappointment. “I am afraid I am needed to assist with the women we rescued,” she says. “Veronica will handle the debrief, and one of us shall fetch her when she is finished.”

“Please tell Green Lantern or someone with a plane I’ll catch a ride back with them, Di,” Veronica says. “I’m pretty sure your invisible jet must’ve freaked people out.”

“As you wish, Veronica. Although Superman said he’d—”

“No,” she says firmly. “You tell Kal, I’m not flying all the way to the States with him. You know how many bugs I swallowed the last time he flew me for more than a couple of minutes? And if he has to stop to save a cat from a tree, he deposits me wherever to wait while he coaxes the thing out of the branches.”

Wonder Woman laughs. It sounds like the first day of spring, or the kind of Christmas morning Logan used to have when his mother was still alive and his father would be off shooting a film somewhere. “Very well,” the Amazon says.

She bids everyone goodbye, then flies up into her still-invisible jet. It looks like she just disappears into a pocket of sky. There’s a roar of engines firing, and then the sound of a jet departing.

Logan’s pretty sure he’s not the only one perplexed by the jet that’s just obviously left the flight deck.

Veronica sees their faces and smiles. “Ah, she turned off the sound dampeners to give your crew some warning, but I’m afraid she can’t do anything about the invisibility. It was built that way.”

“It’s amazing,” the captain breathes. “What I’d give for an hour in that cockpit.”

She smiles apologetically. “Unfortunately, no man can fly that plane, as it was created by the Amazons on Themyscira.”

The CO’s wasn’t the only face that fell at the news. But he quickly regained his businesslike demeanor. “Ms. Mars, may I escort you to the cabin so you can debrief us in comfort?”

“Yes, please,” Veronica says. “It’s a fairly straightforward rescue mission, but Superman picked up the chatter when your Raptors took off earlier, so he moved to intercept. Mr. Stark also asked me to convey his thanks on his behalf. He has made it his mission to personally destroy Stark Industries weaponry sold on the black market whenever he learns of any stockpiles.”

The captain makes noises about being happy to accommodate the Justice League and the Avengers as they walk. The other officers follow behind them, and Logan knows he’s wearing a bemused expression on his face. His squadron leader is giving him funny looks, and tilts his head in Veronica’s direction, but Logan just shakes his head. He wonders what Veronica’s involved with now.

Justice League and human trafficking? Really?

He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. It is, after all, Veronica Mars. She’d solved her best friend’s murder before she’d been legally old enough to vote. It shouldn’t surprise him that she’d upped the stakes since then.

He’s terribly glad he’s been asked to join the debriefing though. He wonders if she’ll have time to talk to him before someone—the Green Lantern, apparently—comes to pick her up.

The debriefing is an eye-opener into what her life is like. Veronica describes how an investigation of a pattern for missing persons in Coast City, Star City, and Metropolis gets tracked to a human trafficking operation with ties to the Gotham mob and the terrorist group Logan’s aborted mission targeted. She breaks down the op and the roles of various superheroes Logan has only ever read about or watched on the news with startling efficiency.

If he thought listening her plan an investigation or a prank back in their Neptune days was scary, hearing how she led an op that involved people with super powers yet still managed to sound like she’d been bossing around Wallace, Mac, and Weevil instead of core members of the Justice League is downright terrifying.

“What is Iron Man’s role in all of this?” the Captain asks.

She makes a face. “Iron Man’s op was completely divorced from our own. As he is not affiliated with the Justice League, despite occasional team ups as part of the Avengers for Omega Level events—”

“Omega Level events?”

“Sorry, that’s JL code for imminent worldwide catastrophes—alien invasions, robot apocalypses, that kind of thing. Outside of those, the major superhero teams rarely join forces, even if individual heroes will help each other out from time to time.” She shrugs. “Kind of like the different arms of the armed forces, I’ve heard?”

“Understood.”

“Anyway, it just so happened that your op coincided with ours and with his. Our primary directive was to rescue the hostages, all of whom are women and girls. We were also going to dispose of the weapons cache, but since Iron Man arrived and informed us that this was his main purpose in being there, we decided to let him take care of that, while we took care of evacuation and aid for the survivors.”

“And where exactly did you evacuate the survivors to?” asks one of the only non-navy officers in the room, a CIA agent who’d provided intel for the op. “We’d like to debrief them, if possible.”

Veronica frowns. “I’m not sure if that will be possible, though I will ask. What I can do is provide you with copies of our own debriefs. Our focus will be on helping these women move forward, though, ideally restoring them to their families.”

Logan isn’t the only one who notices she didn’t answer the agent’s question. The spook frowns. “Perhaps we can ask them ourselves? I would be happy to go with you to—”

“I’m sorry,” Veronica cuts in evenly. “I can’t let you go where we have taken them.”

“I really must insist—”

“Wonder Woman has been kind enough to offer refuge, temporary or permanent, to the hostages in her home. As they are a sovereign nation offering sanctuary, you would have to deal with the Themysciran Embassy and route your requests through there. As you must know, Paradise Island has a women-only policy that has been in place for centuries. I am only authorized to pass on information from our debriefs that might be relevant to your operations.”

“You can’t do that! I’ll—”

“You will drop this,” she says, a warning in her voice. “Or you can route it through the proper channels. Those are your only options right now. Trust me when I say that you do not want me to escalate this concern.”

The agent’s face, already red from when she’d cut him off the first time, is turning an alarming shade of purple. “Now see here, missy—”

Her face turns to stone at the word. She opens her mouth to speak, then stops. Presses a finger to her ear. And that’s the only time Logan realizes she’s got a com in there. She holds up a finger. “Hold that thought.” Then she walks to one side of the room. “Bats, what have you got?” She listens for a moment, the hums a response. “I didn’t really want to pull out the big guns for a little op like this one.” Logan is left wondering what a _big_ op might be like for her, if she thinks of this as _little_. She huffs out a breath. “Fine. Have it your way. But you can’t growl at me if I meddle with your ops, after this.” She pauses. “Bite me, Bats. Mars, out.”

“Ms. Mars, did you just hang up on the Batman?” the ship’s XO asks hesitantly.

She grimaces. “He’s kind of a mother hen and prone to nagging.”

_Batman?_ Logan isn’t the only one gaping.

The CIA agent doesn’t know when to quit, though. “Ms. Mars—”

“Look, you may not believe me, but I’m playing nice here. I could’ve sicced Batman on you, or worse, Wonder Woman herself. And then you’d possibly have a diplomatic incident on your hands if you tried to treat her like you’re treating me. Or have broken hands, if you tried this with the Bat. I’ve told you what we can give you. Anything else, go through the proper channels. I’ve been told to mention that I have the White House on speed dial, if that’s any incentive.”

Now Logan is outright goggling. _The White House?!_ She meets his eyes briefly, and a smirk ghosts her lips. “The President’s a fan of the World’s Finest, both of whom have been involved in this case from the beginning.”

“Who are you, lady?” the agent cries in frustration.

“Veronica Mars. You can look me up on Wikipedia. Or if you want to go all shadowy governmenty on me, why don’t you give Amanda Waller a call?”

That name, whoever it belongs to, shuts the spook up quickly enough. She aims a genial smile at the rest of the room. “Now, do you gentlemen have any other questions about the op? Ones I can actually help you with?”

They do, although at some point it devolves into general questions that poorly disguise the officers’ fan tendencies. By the time they wrap up, it’s late afternoon. When most of the others have gone, the captain offers her an early dinner in his cabin with some of the top officers, but she declines with a smile. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, Lt. Echolls and I are childhood friends, and I would love to catch up with him a bit before I have to head over to Themyscira. That is, if he’s not otherwise engaged.”

The captain looks at Logan’s CO, who shakes his head. “Nothing on the books, and he’s off duty until 0700H.”

She grins. “Perfect.”

The captain looks at Logan. “Why don’t you give Ms. Mars a tour while she waits for her transport?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, captain,” she says, beaming at him then shaking hands with and thanking everyone before hooking her arm through Logan’s as he leads her out of the captain’s cabin. “So, navy boy, you gonna show me around?”

“Those are my orders,” Logan says with a half-smile. “Seriously, though, I had no idea how involved you were with the Justice League. Strategic operations leader and government liaison to the Justice League?”

She frowns. “It’s the other way around, actually. Justice League liaison to various governments, including the United States. And where did you hear that?”

“Wonder Woman mentioned it when she introduced you.”

“Oh. Right. Well it sounds grander than it is, I think.” He asks all sorts of questions about her job as he shows her around the public-friendly areas of the aircraft carrier. He concludes the tour at the Mess, where dinner service is just about to start. “Got time for grub?”

“It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Of course, his squad leader waves them over immediately, and Logan introduces her to his squad, all of whom proceed to flirt with Veronica and/or tease the heck out of Logan, since his stories of home often involve a certain tiny blonde whirlwind. They fall in line at the food service station, still laughing and joking.

“You’re in luck, bobcat. It’s burger day.”

She grins. “Oh really? Well, then! Don’t tell Stark—he’s a burger monster. Did you know that’s apparently the first thing he asked for when he got back from Afghanistan? Or so he says every time we grab a cheeseburger.”

This sparks the first round of questions about the heroes she knows. Stark is a favorite among aviators, seeing as he’s known for designing some of the world’s coolest jets. But then again, so’s just about any hero who can fly, and Batman’s jets are the stuff of legend. Not to mention the invisible jet Wonder Woman dropped her off in.

As they eat, Veronica gamely answers their questions and actually ends up pulling out her phone to show them a video she shot flying from Metropolis to Gotham in Superman’s arms. The view is gorgeous, but what strikes Logan is the friendly banter she shares with the Man of Steel—and the way the hero begs her to make him a batch of snickerdoodles.

“Ah, I have fond memories of those snickerdoodles,” he says.

She rolls her eyes. “You, Supes, and Wallace. You’d think I put crack in them or something.”

He grins and bites into a chocolate chip cookie he snagged with his dinner. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Too bad they don’t work very well for care packages. Did you get the shortbread cookies I sent before, though? And the beef jerky?”

“That was you?” one of the guys on the squad asks. “That jerky was awesome!”

She beams at him. “Yep! My friend Bruce’s butler is a terrific cook and he taught me his secret recipe. We’ve been changing things up a bit. I sent Logan here the original smoky beef flavor, but I’ve got a maple and brown sugar mix and a pepper and sea salt mix that’s really good too, plus a habanero version if you like the kick. I’ll have to include some of everything next time.” She eyes the group. “And make up a bigger care package.”

“The ravening horde here will take whatever you send,” Logan reassures her. “But I’d be happy with even just emails.”

“Awww,” everyone around them all says collectively.

Veronica blushes and Logan glares at them. Then she lifts a hand to her ear and rises. “One sec, guys.” She walks a couple of feet away. “What’s up, Big Blue? All done? Good. Have I got a ride back to the Watchtower? I can spend the night there and take a zeta to Themyscira tomorrow, give the docs a chance to work without me bothering them. No, I’m not flying Kryptonian Airways, thank you very much. I’ve eaten my quota of bugs for the month.”

She starts snickering. “He ran out of juice on his ring? Yeah, tell him to pick me up in the Javelin. I’ll even let him show it off for the flyboys. All right. See you at debrief. Mars out.”

She walks back to them, a rueful expression on my face. “So, my ride’s on its way. How do I get approval to land a plane on the… uh… air strip thingie?”

He chuckles. “Flight deck.”

“Yeah, the flight deck!”

“I’ll go and let air control know. I’m pretty sure the captain already authorized your pickup, so it should just be a matter of letting them know ETA.”

“ETA’s about five minutes, but if you need more time, my guy will hover wherever you tell him to.”

A whole squadron of aviators turns greedy eyes on her. “Hover?”

She smiles. “The Javelin is a single-space-to-orbit aircraft with hyperspace capabilities and a theoretically unlimited power source. Hover jets are a simple feature compared to that. I take it you’d like for a demo of its maneuvers?”

“Yes, ma’am,” all of them chorus.

“Bet the CO and XO would like to watch too,” Logan’s squad leader says. “I’ll go let them know.”

As a group, they walk toward the flight deck, but once there, Logan pulls Veronica to the side, where the noise of operations and the wind over the water offers them some measure of privacy.

“It was good to see you, Veronica.”

She smiles up at him. “Ditto, Logan. Sorry we messed up your op.”

He shakes his head. “If you hadn’t, and those people had still been in there, I would’ve ended up killing civilians. I’m grateful you and the Justice League stepped in.”

She wraps her arms around him in a hug. He hugs her back, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. “Then so am I. Write me when you can? I’ll do the same. And I’ll send you that beef jerky for your squad.”

“They’ll be grateful.”

“And I’ll see you when you’re back stateside?”

“Wild horses couldn’t tear me away. I’ll even feed you the first chance I get.”

“You do know me well.” She sighs and steps back. “Well. Back to work, I guess.”

“Veronica.” He lets his concern show on his face. “You’ll stay safe? I didn’t even know you did all this stuff for the Justice League. And while it’s awesome and I know you’re the best, I won’t be able to help worrying.”

She reaches for his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. “I’m as safe as I can be, doing what I do. I’ve got a team at my back. And some of the JL are even more overprotective than my dad is.”

“You bet, tiny tot!” Logan startled and turned to see the Green Lantern glowing and hovering a few feet away. The man shrugged in casual apology. “I told the guys in the tower I didn’t need to land to pick you up. I’ve got the Jav hovering about half a mile that way.” The green-clad hero gestures off toward the ocean. “Heard you promised them a show, though.”

“Like you weren’t going to give them one anyway.”

“You know me too well.” He turns to Logan. “She’s not joking, though. We’ve all got her six, Batman, Superman and GA most of all.”

“GA?”

“Green Arrow,” Veronica says with a roll of her eyes. “Together those three are the trifecta of mother hens.”

Green Lantern lets out a guffaw. “I’m telling Spooky you said that.”

“Nothing he hasn’t heard before. And I thought you ran out of ring juice?”

“Almost, so lets get out of here before I show the world I rolled into work in my jammies today.”

She snorts. “Only you.” She turns to Logan. “Guess this is me. Take care of yourself, okay? Come back to me.”

“Always,” he assures her.

She pecks him on the cheek, then steps back and waves to the guys on the deck as she is encased in a green bubble. In less than a minute, she and her teammate are specs in the horizon, and they seem to disappear into thin air.

A moment later, whatever cloaking mechanism is on their plane deactivates, and a sleek white jet is seen hovering over the horizon. Logan hears some of his teammates cuss under their breaths in appreciation.

The pilot does a flyby, then executes a series of super maneuvers a jet that big should not be able to do. Logan, like everyone on the flight deck, stares in awe as it does barrel rolls and J-turns, among other things. Then it flashes its lights cheerfully, then heads off into the horizon before doing a 90-degree turn upward and disappears into the upper atmosphere.

“That’s some girl you’ve got there, Mouth,” one of his squad mates tells him. “Hell, if that were my ex, I wouldn’t be over her either.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” Logan says distractedly, still staring out at the sky.

“Seems pretty into you too, if that hug’s anything to go by.”

Logan turns and focuses his gaze on his teammate’s. Then he smiles. “Yeah. What we’ve got, you know? It’s pretty epic.”


End file.
